


Fallen In Every Way Imaginable

by stereophoenix



Category: Stardust (2007), Supernatural
Genre: Dark Magic, Eventual Smut, Faerie Magic, Faerie!Dean Winchester, Fallen!Star!Castiel, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Multi, One-Sided Relationship, Stardust AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 11:03:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 51,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stereophoenix/pseuds/stereophoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean Winchester crosses the portal to another world in the wall outside his village, his plan was to bring a star back to prove his love for the beautiful Lisa Braeden. However, after capturing the confused, skeptical Castiel (and since when did stars wear trenchcoats?), he discovers the magical kingdom of Stormhold doesn not intend to let them go so easily. As the Daemon Crowley hunts them for Castiel's heart and the Faerie princes Michael and Lucifer search for a ruby only they possess, Dean is going to have to learn a whole lot more about love, adventure and his own unconventional heritage to survive.<br/>A Stardust!AU, because of the accuracy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Enchanted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was inspired by several posts I saw on Tumblr, and eventually turned into my holiday project to pass the time. I have no idea whether this AU has been done before, but it seemed so perfect to me and I enjoyed writing it so much I really don't care. Please enjoy reading!

_"Are we human because we gaze at the stars, or do we gaze at them because we are human?"_

John Winchester was curious. Not the type of curious where one wonders what could possibly be happening in the neighbour's back garden to make that awful screeching noise, but politely moves on; no, John was even more curious than that. Presented with that sort of situation, he would deliberate the question for perhaps six seconds, then promptly attempt to climb the tree at the end of his garden to try and see. Unfourtunately, being 12 years old and not really the climbing type, he would get stuck halfway, causing the tree the shake leaves all over the neighbour (who was trying to get their fat cat out of the cat flap, ironically enough), who would look up, see John and start to shout angrily at him for the leaves, the spying, his lack of shameful expression and several past accidents of John's doing which really should have been forgotten, but that was just the type of person the neighbour was.

At the end of it all, John Winchester was the type of curious which he liked to refer to as adventurous, and everyone else agreed was just plain nosy.

It wasn't his fault, not really. John lived in the quiet village of Wall, named so after the long, grey-slate wall which ran all the way alongside it for as far as the villagers could be bothered to see (which wasn't really that far at all), and he'd longed to get out of it for most of his life. There was something about the calm, easy, day-to-day routine of Wall which struck John as wrong, boring, pathetic even; he couldn't believe people could be happy to live this way from their first breath to the day they drop. Didn't anyone apart from him want more? Want to know what was out there in the big wide world?

This was the root of John's curiousness - a strong sense of not belonging, of being out of place in the most forgotten town on the map. His thirst for excitement and experience made him constantly distracted, and this wanderlust was agreed to be unhealthy by the rest of the village collectively.

"You'll see," Victor Braeden said one night at the village bar, surrounded by a good many of the town's family fathers and brothers, who nodded along sleepily; "One day, John'll get so curious he'll pick a hole in the sky and the universe will fall through. That's Winchesters for you."

It remains to be said that the Winchesters were actually quite a respectable family in the small social hierarchy of Wall, but Victor was bitter and drunk at the time, plus his sister had gone into labour that morning and he was worried. However, this is not to say he was wrong. Quite the opposite, in fact - one day, the sky would fall through and a Winchester would most certainly be to blame. Where Victor was mistaken was in the assumption it was John. It wasn't.

But before I tell you that story, I have to tell you this story...

* * *

 

Rufus Turner squinted disbelievingly at the young man in front of him, who blinked back like his request was perfectly reasonable at midnight in the middle of a field, on a Wednesday, of all days.

"What did you just tell me, boy?"

"I said," John shifted uncomfortably in his father's walking boots and tried not to look guilty, "could you please let me past?"

Rufus was thrown. Years of his life at the wall, quietly guarding it and going about his business with no trouble, and no-one had ever tried to give him any in return. If he had been expecting any sort of mess, it was to be on the other side, but they had stayed pretty calm recently too. But now, for the first time, a human was trying to get across. Rufus decided to hand it to him straight.

"Look, I don't know what kind of game you're trying to play here, but it ain't funny, kid. I am charged with guarding the portal to another world, and you want me to just...let you through?

John smiled slightly, and tipped his head to glance past Rufus at the broken gap in the wall. He had heard the stories, of course, but he was 22 years old now, and being realistic did not make him in anyway stupid. "Yes, I am. Want to know why?"

Rufus narrowed his eyes and tensed slightly. "Why?"

"Because - let's be honest - it's a field," John replied. He moved closer to Rufus, pushed his bag further behind his back and pointed out. "Look at it. Seriously, look. What do you see? Do you see another world? No. You see a field. Do you see anything vaguely nonhuman? No, just a field. And why? Because it's a field!" John finished bluntly, and took a step back like his point had been made. "I just want to get out of here, and the wall's the only way. So, let me past."

Rufus felt anger inside of him, directed at this stubborn, rude boy who'd swaggered up here expecting to be let past like he was the King of friggin' England. He slowly drew himself up to his full height, and took one deliberate step towards John, raising his sawnoff shotgun to press the tip against his chest (the thing wasn't loaded, never had been, but John didn't need to know that). Rufus saw a flicker of fear in John's eyes, and spoke.

"Hundreds of years this wall's been here, boy. Hundreds of years it's been under 24-hour-watch. No-one has ever been allowed to cross the gap, and no-one ever will be."

John gulped, and searched Rufus' expression for a hint of insecurity. He found none, and sighed before looking down at the shotgun. "Well..."

One more word," Rufus poked the shotgun at John, finding too much joy in the momentary widening of the boy's eyes, "and I'll have you up in front of the village council, you hear me?"

"Well," John said again, and this time he took a few defeated steps back. "That all sounds pretty final."

"You bet it does," Rufus nodded, satisfied, and lowered the shotgun.

"I guess I'd better...just go home, I suppose," John muttered, almost to himself, turning as if to leave.

Rufus cracked his back with a groan and gave the kid a small wave. "Give my best to your dad, John," he commented. He always liked to leave things on a kind note, if possible. Now, it was late, and Rufus was feeling like a rest. He glanced around for his wooden chair that he kept for nights like this, and just as he did, he heard the heavy pounding of feet on the ground, as if someone was running, and he frowned again.

"What the-" he started as he turned back, and then all at once, someone was sprinting past him, their bag banging against Rufus' stomach painfully, and they were going towards the wall and with one strong jump, they were clearing the gap and Rufus was yelling at him to stop, to get back here right now you dumb kid 'cause if he got to the other side he ain't gonna come back, but he was gone, over-

-and John, expecting to land on cushy grass and was bracing himself to roll, suddenly felt a change in the wind and his whole body seemed to suck, like the air around it had had to accommodate an 22-year-old boy with no warning. His eyes were closed but he was vaguely aware of several lights flashing around him, and then his feet slammed down onto hard cobblestones and his body followed, his shoulder crunching against the ground but luckily cushioning his head.

There were several yells, and someone walked into John's left leg before mumbling angrily and leaving. John uncurled his arms from around his chest and pushed himself up, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. The person who had stepped on his leg was already disappearing into the crowd - where had the crowd come from? - and as John stood up, his eyes widened in fear, excitement and slight skepticism.

Gone was the darkness of the field and the crumbling wall and the far-away lights of Wall; John was standing in the middle of a busy marketplace, with people shouting and chatting and bargaining and pleading and haggling and generally being people all around him. Over their heads, he could see the walls of houses and buildings surrounding the square, but right here there were stalls and carts and wagons, where vendors were selling goods at lightning pace. The smells were out of this world, mixed with familiar scents of fruit and pastry and rust and a dozen other unnameable things.

John wandered through it all, amazed. Just a few minutes ago, his world had stopped at the edges of his town, only being transported elsewhere by the pages of books. Now, he was in the middle of an alien town, listening to people exchange items he'd never even heard of, with a twilight sky shining purple above him. _He was right,_ John realised suddenly, _it was the portal to another world. And I've stumbled right into it._

He stopped to examine the flowers on one stall, which was in front of a dirty gypsy cart, marvelling at how similar they were to the ones at home. He was just thinking how they were probably fire-breathing or some other wild thing when a short, chubby brunette woman slammed her hands on the table and glared into his face.

"I don't deal with time-wasters," she snapped at him, and for a second he swore her pupils expanded to fill the whole eye, a bottomless black that made him shiver. Then the woman blinked, and her eyes were normal again. "Either you buy a flower, or you leave, got it?"

John nodded mutely, and the woman gave him one last frown before stepping back and turning to her cart.

"Mary!" she shouted, and John wondered who she was talking to. His question was answered when he noticed a girl curled up on the steps of the cart, a girl with long blonde hair and wearing a torn blue dress that could have once been beautiful. The girl, Mary, lifted her hair with one thin wrist and John saw large hazel eyes staring out of a pale, heart-shaped face. A thin silver chain was wrapped around her wrist.

The chubby brunette woman, obviously some sort of gypsy, called the girl over rudely. "Get over here and tend this stall, do you think you can handle that? I'm heading over to the Slaughtered Prince for a drink." The gypsy pushed past John and marched off into the masses.

Mary raised herself dejectedly from the steps and walked with bare feet over to the stall, where John stood, mesmerised. She trailed her hand over the plants, cupping one resembling a rose with her fingers before saying, "See anything you like?"

John, taken aback by the sudden question, stumbled out, "Oh, definitely!"

Mary lifted her head to see him staring right at her, blushing, and laughed, a low chuckle that was filled with amusement. Like the gypsy, John saw Mary's eyes change, but instead of the dangerous black, he saw the hazel ripple with blue light, dancing on the edge of her irises like cold fire. In his head, the word Faerie floated out of nowhere, and he shivered again, but not from fear.

"I mean, what I meant is-" he stammered out, and still thinking of her eyes, said, "the blue ones."

Mary picked up the blue bunch delicately and scrutinised his choice.

"How much are they?" John asked, knowing he had nothing of worth in this world but doing so out of politeness.

"Depends..." Mary sighed, and leaned forward so her body pressed against the edge of the table, moving her head closer to John's. She lifted the flowers to fill the space between them, and studies the bluebells. "They might be the colour of your hair." John frowned, then realised she was talking cost. "Or, they might be all of your childhood memories before you were three." She looked up at John through her lashes. "I can check if you like."

John, enchanted by the colours still seeping through Mary's eyes, slowly opened his mouth to reply. Suddenly, Mary pulled back, and placed the flowers back on the table.

"It doesn't matter," she said decidedly. "You shouldn't buy the bluebells. Try..." her fingers hovered over one flower at a time, before stopping and plucking a lone white one at the very edge of the selection. "...this one." She held it out for John to see. "It's a snowdrop. It'll bring you luck."

John glanced from the flower to Mary to see her smiling, a genuine warmth that gave him a light head.

"But what does it cost?" he countered, almost whispering. Mary's smile turned mischievous.

"This one costs a kiss."

John blinked and looked at Mary's lips, nervous. He saw her hand lower with the snowdrop out of the corner of his eye, but he was distracted by the way her head was moving forward and he slowly tipped his face towards hers and his eyes closed, ready to-

Then Mary grabbed him suddenly, wrapping her hand around his arm and pulling him around the table, towards the cart. She ducked down the side of it, moving behind the wheels and taking John with her. John staggered along with it, and only when they were both under the cart did he realise - the gypsy woman was back, hands on her hips as she weaved slightly to the stall. Her long dark hair was distinctly messier and she grabbed the cart door angrily and looked inside. Whatever she saw seemed to satisfy her, as she nodded to herself then slammed it shut, rocking the cart and hitting John on the head. Mary clamped a hand around his mouth so he didn't cry out in pain.

The gypsy woman left again, vanishing quickly between two incredibly tall men with purple hair. Mary's eyes were wide with fear and the hazel flickered fearfully as she hissed, "Is she gone?"

John nodded, and Mary relaxed. She stood up again, and gestured for John to follow her. They climbed the steps into the cart, and the inside was filled with pots and jars of strange substances and objects that John didn't even want to consider. Mary was sitting on a ledge that held a small cage, and he joined her.

"What's your name?" Mary asked quietly, and John told her.

"John, I'm a princess," she said calmly, looking for all the world like it was normal to be a princess where she came from. However, the blue and gold in her eyes were quivering from anxiety. "I was tricked in being that Daemon's slave. Her name's Ruby, and she keeps me trapped." Mary held up her wrist to show the thin chain he'd seen earlier, and now John saw it carried on into a long twist that connected to the silver cage, which was obviously secured to the floor. Mary pressed the hand with the chain against John's own, and murmured, "Will you liberate me?"

John frowned for a moment, then brightened and pulled a small knife out of his bag. He lifted the chain and with one strong movement, sliced through the links. The ends fell into his palm, and he looked at Mary happily. However, she still looked sad, and he was confused until he felt the ends of the chain move. Surprised, he watched as the ends lifted and fused themselves back together, with no indication they'd ever been broken.

Mary sighed and lifted the chain out of his hand before clasping their fingers together. "It's an enchanted chain. I'll only be free when she dies."

John felt his heart drop, and he muttered, "Sorry." Mary squeezed his hands in a gesture of forgiveness, and John tried to think of something to say. All that came out was:

"Well, if I can't free you, what do you want of me?"

* * *

 

When John walked in a daze back to the wall later that night (apparently his fast entrance in the world, which Mary told him was called Stormhold, had rushed him right into the middle of the market town of Campbell; if he'd been slow, he would've landed in the field just as he expected, and had to walk to the market), his mind was full of all of the new things he'd seen. He paid no attention to Rufus, who was standing shocked as John stepped over the gap like it was an ordinary wall, and he barely acknowledged his surroundings until he entered his own front door. He had one white snowdrop tucked into his top buttonhole of his jacket.

John didn't try to leave Wall again for several months, and by that time he was hoping that his adventure could not be repeated - not that he had told anyone. When he finally began to entertain the idea of leaving, approximately nine months later, he was stopped by an unexpected souvenir of his time over the wall.

John opened his door to see Rufus standing there with a basket in his hands, looking annoyed and slightly bemused. He held out the basket carefully.

"This was left at the wall for you."

John took the basket and peered inside to see...a baby. Small, pink-fleshed and blue-eyed, the baby watched him with interest. John looked up to ask Rufus who had dropped it off, but Rufus just held out a letter.

"Says here his name's Dean," the man said gruffly, then before he could be asked any more, turned and melted into the night.

John, nonplussed, looked back at Dean, just in time to see the baby sneeze. As it did, John saw one of its eyes flare bright blue, like a cold fire he'd only seen once before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An accurate song for this chapter would be Enchanted by Taylor Swift, which may or may not have also been the reason for this chapter's title. Thanks!


	2. Impotent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to aknightbecomesqueen, who bookmarked this last chapter. Now, finally, we can begin with Dean!

_**Eighteen years later...  
**_ Dean Winchester was not curious. Unlike his father and his father's family before him, who had somewhat of a reputation for going off and having the sort of adventures that were only talked about with dark expressions and the shaking of heads, Dean was quite happy where he was, thank you very much. In his hometown, Wall, he knew everyone, and everyone knew him. He had a small job at the general store in the square, he had his comics and his self-defence (Dean shunned all exercise except the ones he thought he'd need), he had his half-brother Sam and -sister Jo, and most of all he had his good looks - he was average height, with tanned skin, dark blonde hair and unnaturally green eyes. On one level, the only number of levels Dean admitted to having, he was satisfied.

Of course, all of this made him notorious for being slightly stupid and very shallow, but Dean liked it that way. Wall was a place of simple tastes and even simpler conclusions, and Dean could cruise easily by on all of it.

This morning in particular, however, Dean was noticeably less curious than usual. He slumped against the kitchen table of his family home, sipping slowly from his coffee mug and trying not to think about the new humiliation he'd been subjected to the evening before.

_"Gordon?" Lisa Braeden cried excitedly as she burst through the front door of her house. Her uncle Victor had shouted upstairs "It's him!" and in her eagerness, she'd forgotten to put her hair up or her shoes on. But surely Gordon wouldn't mind._

_Lisa stopped short when she saw who was waiting for her. Instead of the dark coffee skin and knowing smirk of her sort-of boyfriend Gordon Walker, she was greeted by freckles and a sheepish smile, holding a bouquet of violets._

_"No...it's Dean," Dean said, rather pointlessly._

_"Oh," Lisa's smile dropped and she leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. "What are you doing here, Dean? Did I leave something at the shop?"_

_"No," Dean assured her, and ran his hand through his short hair. "Actually, I thought I could bring-"_

_Dean was cut short by a smooth velvet voice from behind him. "Well, if it isn't Dean Winchester. You chasing the women before they've even got to the bar now, Dean? There's no end to your charms, is there?"_

"Want some breakfast?"

Dean was dragged out of his thoughts by a cereal bowl pushed under his nose. He looked up to see his little half-brother Sam, who despite only being fourteen was already nearly six foot, watching him worriedly. Dean sighed and shook his head.

"Can't," he replied as he set the empty mug down and picked his bag up off the counter. "I'm really late for work."

"Are you alright?" Sam frowned. It definitely wasn't like his brother to turn down food. When Dean didn't reply, distracted, their sister Jo smacked him on the head with a spoon from where she was sitting at the table.

"Dean!"

"What?" Dean snapped, rubbing his head.

"Sam just asked if you were okay," Jo rolled her eyes and Dean contemplated how, once again, Jo had proved herself to be the sassiest twelve-year-old in existence.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Sammy. Why?" Dean turned to him, where he stood crouched underneath the kitchen's low ceiling.

Sam shook his head and made a face. "I don't know. Just...wondering."

Dean frowned but he had no chance to say anything, as just then Dad and Ellen came in, bickering cheerfully about some new development in their (albeit limited) social circle. Dean gave a nod to his father and a kiss on the cheek to his stepmother, before turning to leave. He was already ten minutes late and his job was on thin ice as it was. Just as he opened the door, he heard Ellen call him. "Dean! Wait, honey, how did last night go?"

He gulped. "Really good. It was really, really good."

_Dean turned to see the smug face of Gordon Walker, his expression turning stony. Generally, Dean was an amiable person to everyone and he didn't know anymore than about four people he had a hard time liking. Unfortunately, Gordon was one of them. Behind him, he heard Lisa sigh and step forward to try and break the tension between the two of them. "Gordon, there's no need to be like that."_

_Dean held up a hand to stop her, to tell her that it was okay, and that he didn't need her to fight his battles. However, before he could, Lisa had moved past him and wrapped her arms around one of Gordon's, leaning her head on his shoulder and smiling at Dean. "Be nice to the poor boy."_

_Dean's face flushed at the words 'poor boy', but he had no time to try and recover himself before Gordon gestured at the flowers in his hands and asked, "Were those for Lisa?"_

_Dean narrowed his eyes and nodded, wary. Gordon stepped forward, still with Lisa holding his arm, and fingered the petals on one of the flowers slightly. Then, with that infuriating smile still on his face, he knocked them smoothly out of Dean's hand. The flowers crashed to the floor just as Dean, embarrassed and annoyed into anger, raised his fist and planted a clumsy right hook across Gordon's cheek. Gordon was stronger and taller than Dean, but he had been taken by surprise, and the boy staggered back a few steps. Lisa let go of his arm immediately and rushed to Dean, grabbing his arms before he could attempt to hurt Gordon further._

_Gordon, his hand clutched to the side of his face, laughed cruelly. "You always were totally useless at fighting in school, Dean."_

_Suddenly, Gordon lurched forward and grabbed Dean's shoulders, jerking his knee upwards to collide with his stomach. Dean doubled over, aware that Lisa had let go of him and was backing away from the fight altogether, but all the more concentrated on the pain. As he cried out, Gordon pushed and he fell to the floor easily, arms curled around his abdomen._

_"Then again," Gordon smiled, seemingly uncaring of the blood seeping from a small graze Dean had managed to inflict on his face, "I think I'm having trouble remembering anything you were good at."_

_Dean would have made a cruel retort if he had enough breath, but just at that moment Lisa pulled Gordon away before he started on Dean again. All he could do was lie there on the floor, hissing in pain and helplessly humiliated._

* * *

 

Dean had just finishing cashing in for a previous customer when the door chimes rang out again, and he looked up to see Lisa walking purposefully towards him.

Dean still wasn't so sure what had attracted him to Lisa Braeden in the first place - if you'd asked, he would have shrugged casually and said something about 'the challenge'. Dean was by no means whatsoever unattractive, and he was sure if he'd tried harder in school, he could easily have been popular - but his short attention span had robbed him of that chance. Still, he had been eyed by a fair share of women in the town, and he'd contented himself with a good number of them, but none of them struck him as memorable. Lisa, however, had never even approached him, and since the moment he had first seen her milk chocolate beauty from across the lunch hall, he'd felt determined to win her somehow. He had been confident he could do it, as he was by no means a shy person, but that has been before Gordon had entered the picture.

He nodded a goodbye to the customer and pursed his lips nervously as she leaned against the counter.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean nodded, almost to himself, and looked up and gave her a small smile. "Lisa."

Lisa stayed quiet for a moment, then: "A pound of sugar, please."

Dean tried not to let the hurt show in his face as he turned to take down the jar. As he removed the lid and started weighing, Lisa added, "A bag of flour and a dozen eggs, if you can, as well."

Dean nodded, still weighing. Lisa leaned further over the counter, trying to get his attention. "Look, Dean, I'm really sorry about last night, about Gordon. I didn't-"

"Mean for it to happen?" Dean finished, smiling cheerlessly as he handed over the sugar and pulled open a cupboard to reach the flour and eggs. "It's cool. I get it."

Lisa paused, seemingly unsatisfied, and waited for him to give her the goods before saying, "I also need a sack of potatoes and some chocolate, please."

Dean handed over the bar and cashed the prices without a word, and Lisa handed over the money, equally as mute. Dean was aware of her watching him as he heaved the sack over his shoulders, and injected some confidence into his stride as they walked out together.

He slung the sack easily into her cart and plastered his most-favoured winning smile on his face, before turning back to where she stood sheepishly on the pavement. "Look, how about I see you tonight and we talk this over more?"

Lisa frowned slightly, her lips twisting as she shook her head. "No, Dean, we can't. But," Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly, "you may walk me home."

Dean paused. On one hand, he desperately wanted to go with her, but as he glanced at his manager through the shop window... "Now?"

Lisa nodded, making a face like it was obvious. Dean looked at Zachariah again; he was chiding the other shop boy, Adam, for something. He wasn't in a good mood, and Dean wasn't the model assistant, and it was only three o'clock-

"No problem. Yeah, I can walk you home."

* * *

 

Dean leaned his back against his own front door, letting his head roll back as he stared at the twilight and contemplated how he could say it.

"Dad, I lost my job."

"Dad, I don't..."

"I lost my job. I'm sorry."

Just as he decided to just enter and see how things went (Dean tended to take that attitude a lot, no matter how much planning he did), the door behind him swung open and he fell in, nearly crashing into his stepmother with a basket of clothes.

"Ellen!" he apologised, just stopping himself from hitting the floor by grabbing a chair. She smiled, forgiving and forgetting already, and Dean looked towards the corner of the room. "Dad."

Without looking up from his book, John Winchester said, "You lost your job."

Dean, taken aback, stammered out an affirmative. His father nodded acceptance, then shut the book and stood up.

"Sir, I'm sorry. I..." Dean trailed off as John walked out of the kitchen, obviously on his way upstairs. Rejected, he slumped in the chair he was still clinging to, throwing his bag on the table and running his hand through his hair.

Ellen, who had watched the whole thing from the doorway, set the basket down and came to sit on the table in front of Dean.

"Maybe Zachariah was right," Dean muttered. "Maybe I am deluding myself." He looked up at Ellen, the woman who had been as much of a mother figure in his life as she could without being blood related. "I'm not good enough for Lisa."

Ellen made a disbelieving noise and tipped her head to one side. "He sure said that? That's a load of bull, Dean, and you know it," she assured him in her no-nonsense way. Yet again, Dean wondered why such a down-to-Earth woman like Ellen Harvelle could possibly want to marry a cold soldier like John Winchester.

Dean laughed slightly, then asked her, "Do you really want to know how it went last night?" Ellen raised an eyebrow in interest. "Not good."

Ellen shook her head sadly - of course, she'd known Dean hadn't been telling the truth that morning. "You going to tell me anything?"

Dean turned his head away, unwilling, and after another short pause he sighed deeply and said, "Come on, Ellen. You know I'm wasting my time. She knows I'm wasting my time. The whole Goddamned town knows I'm wasting my time."

"Dean..." Ellen started, but Dean had stood up and walked around the table, clattering through the store for a cold beer. Ellen followed him, and as he exited she placed a hand on the drink, stopping him short.

"Listen, Dean, you ought to know that every prettyboy who I thought was the whole world to me when I was eighteen has led a ridiculously unremarkable life since then. Your father was barely interested in me at the time, since he had you to look after and your mother- well, what I'm saying is, I fought for him, and now we have Sam and Jo to show for that. Now, you don't fit into the popular crowd, boy, but that don't make you any less than Gordon Walker, and I know that as well as I know myself. Take it as a good omen, Dean," her voice softened and she cupped his cheek kindly, making him look at her. "No-one ever went anywhere in this world by being normal, and you're not normal. Dean, you're special, more than you know. Now if Lisa Braeden can't see that, then maybe you are wasting your time. But if you really think she's worth it..."

Dean, touched by her speech, only had the courage to incline his head slightly in question. Later, after the events following were long over, Ellen would confide in him that the spark of love in his eyes after she told him he was special had not just been emotional, but that she could see it in the blue light that flickered momentarily among the green of his right iris. But for now, she kept quiet, and walked over to the basket by the door. As she emptied the clothes onto the table and started loading food in their place, she looked up at him.

"If you really care about her...you're not going to give up without a fight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I don't like that I had to write Lisa as a bit of a bitch, as that's really not her character and I think she's lovely and everything, but I had to make her a little OOC to fit with the story. Also, I have no idea where the Lisa/Gordon ship came from - I guess I needed someone Dean didn't like. But the song of this chapter is literally Forget About It by All Time Low. Thanks!


	3. Apathetic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to fancy_a_cup_of_tea and happywritter43 for bookmarking! And I apologise for another chapter without Castiel, but I have only one word and that word is brothers. Thanks!

Stones rattled against Lisa's window. A moment later, the latch clicked and she poked her head out, looking around for the source of the noise. Down on the street, Dean could barely contain his excitement.

Lisa, slightly annoyed, hissed, "Dean, I definitely said-"

"I know, you told me not to come," Dean grinned, shifting nervously as he saw shadows move in the Braedens' living room. "Lisa, come on. I have something for you - a surprise."

Lisa glanced back in her bedroom, unwilling. "No..." She hesitated, then shut the window. Dean slumped, disheartened, and he started to leave. Just then he heard the door creak open, and Lisa hurried towards him, wearing pyjamas with a thin cardigan wrapped around her shoulders.

Dean's face broke into an even bigger smile and he gestured for her to follow him to the field next to her house. There, under the huge midnight sky, was laid out a blanket and Ellen's basket, with two sandwiches, a bunch of grapes and a bottle of champagne inside. Lisa stopped, dumbstruck, as Dean moved to sit on the rug.

"Dean..." she whispered, then she suddenly laughed and sat down on the other side of the basket. "Are you even allowed to do this?"

"As long as we're not caught," Dean winked, pulling out the bottle and two glasses. "Think of it as an early nineteenth birthday present."

Lisa's eyes widened. "You know that isn't for another week. Dean, I've never even had champagne before."

Dean raised an eyebrow at her abstinence, but said nothing as he poured. He handed Lisa one glass, and took a long drink from his own, making a face as he did so.

"Woah!" Lisa giggled, and Dean saw her take another small sip, smiling as she laughed. "This is delicious!"

"I always thought it was too fizzy," Dean commented, and Lisa made a face of pity. Before he could ask, she looked in the basket and saw the food.

"Grapes and sandwiches as well?" Lisa smirked and looked up at him. "You sure know how to spoil a girl. How does a shop boy even afford all of this?"

Dean blinked and his smile slid off his face for a moment. Licking his dry bottom lip, he took out the fruit and started popping them, one by one, off the vine. "I'm not a shop boy, Lisa."

Lisa paused as he handed her a few grapes, then said softly, "God, Dean, I heard about that. Sorry. I...What are you going to do now?"

Dean shrugged. "Does it really matter? I wasn't a shop boy anyway; I was just working in a shop. It was to pass time, you know? Now, I can do what I want. I'm free to live my own life." He smiled wanly at her and chewed on another grape.

"But are you going to stay here?" Lisa asked, and Dean heard the curiousness in her voice.

"Who knows? It's a big world, Lisa. I like it here in Wall," he added defensively.

"You sound like Gordon," Lisa smiled, and now she was looking out at the field, seeing the lights on in her own house. "He's always talking about travelling. You know he's going over the border just to buy me a ring?"

Dean laughed, unimpressed. "Over the border? Lisa, I'm talking a road trip! The whole of America, or India or France or..." Then, his mind backtracked and he realised what she'd said. "A ring?" He sat up properly, and saw the way she failed to meet his eyes. "Why is he...What kind of ring?"

Lisa set down her now empty glass, and smiled sweetly. "Apparently, he's going to propose to me on my birthday."

Dean sucked in breath and promptly forgot about the picnic. He'd never expected something as hopelessly romantic as this from Gordon, of all people, and her birthday was only one week away...but Lisa couldn't... "Are you going to say yes?" He leaned forward subconsciously for her response.

Lisa tapped her fingers on her leg awkwardly. "I can't exactly say no after he's gone all that way."

Dean was thrown. He'd chased after her for so long, and now she was about to marry someone else and he couldn't even begin to imagine what he was going to do afterwards. He had no aim - for too long now, his goal had been Lisa, always Lisa. Desperately, he moved across the rug and sat next to her, reaching out to still her tapping fingers.

"'All that way'? Lisa, if it would mean you'd marry me, I'd cross the whole damn world! I'd...I'd go to the gold fields of San Francisco and bring you back your weight in gold!" He saw Lisa laugh, and nodded in earnest, his cheeks turning ruby. "I would! I'd go to Africa and bring you back a diamond as big as your fist. Or I'd go to the Arctic and I'd gank a polar bear and bring you back its head!"

Lisa laughed again, her head rocking back. "A polar bear's head? Seriously? You really think you're a comedic genius, don't you, Dean?"

Dean squeezed her hand harder, and she stopped giggling and looked at his hopeful face. "Dean...people like you and people like me...we just don't..." she trailed off, but her face said it all.

Dean pursed his lips and looked at the ground, lost. After a moment he nodded, muttered an okay and turned to face out towards the field. Lisa patted his hand pitifully, and then said, "I should be going. It's really late-"

"Hang on," Dean practically begged, hating the way he sounded. He looked around and caught sight of the half-empty bottle. "Let's at least finish the champagne, yeah?"

Lisa made a troubled face, then nodded kindly. "Okay."

* * *

If Dean had known then how stars watched Earth, he would have angered at the idea of such a massive audience to his embarrassment in that field in Wall. Fortunately for him, at that moment, nearly every star in the sky was looking in interest to the land on the other side of the wall, where the king of Stormhold lay on his deathbed. By coincidence, or the most incredible twist of fate, it was the king's final act that would change the course of Dean's future irrevocably.

The king, who had been a good and just man overall (if not far too partial to hiding in his study for days and writing what he called his "Gospels") had the full name of Robert Benedict Fitzgerald Shurley VI, Lord of all of the magical kingdom of Stormhold and any of it affiliates. However, to his close family and us for the time being, he was known more commonly as Chuck.

Chuck, lying in his majestically oversized bed in the highest tower of the castle of Stormhold, coughed again and squinted at his sons. Next to his bed, his oldest prince Michael, his third Gabriel and his youngest Lucifer were standing, the tension tangible between the first and seventh sons. Michael was pale and dark-haired, with narrowed eyes that watched his father was strong worry and even stronger impatience; Gabriel was shorter than both of the others, with strawberry blonde hair slicked back and a lollipop dangling between lips curved in permanent amusement; Lucifer was blonde and glaring at his oldest sibling, tense as a coiled snake. All three were dangerous, clever and incredibly powerful.

Chuck glanced at the door. "Where is Raphael?" As far as he could see, despite that being not very far at all, his second-born son had not yet appeared.

Michael stepped forward, brushing his hand over Chuck's in light assurance. "He's coming, Father."

Chuck nodded. "Then we shall wait."

Michael, tightening his lips fractionally, stepped back and spared a haughty look at Lucifer, who's eyes flickered burning ice blue in response. Michael let turquoise sparks flash through his own just to taunt him, and Gabriel sighed at their childish feud. Really, of all the Faerie powers they could throw at each other, letting your eyes change to true colour was the lowest they could go.

Before anything could escalate, however, Raphael walked proudly through the doors of the room, joining his remaining three siblings at his father's bedside. Chuck, who had never taken a queen to the shock of the court, had instead chosen to have numerous flings with as many beautiful princesses/duchesses/ladies, etc. as he could find, and therefore all of his seven sons and one daughter looked obviously different to each other. Raphael, however, was the one who stuck out the most - his mother had been an Goth queen, and Raphael's oil black skin and flat features were a constant reminder of his distant ancestors.

Raphael wrapped his hands round his father's weak arm and kneeled low in respect. His brothers sighed - despite his show of dedication, it was well known between them that Raphael hated their father the most. Raphael raised his head and murmured, "I'm sorry, Father, I came as swiftly as I was able." He straightened himself out and nodded to Michael, Lucifer and Gabriel coldly.

Chuck, seemingly deaf to the competition crackling in the air around his bed, raised his arms out to his children. "Now to the matter of succession."

The four men all noticeably alerted, their eyes flicking to each other in suspicion and pride.

"Out of my seven sons, there are four of you today still standing," Chuck explained regally, having always been a sucker for speeches. "This is quite a break in tradition. I myself had 12 brothers."

"Yes," Lucifer grinned slyly. "And you killed them all before your father, the King, even felt slightly ill."

"We know what you did, Father," Gabriel practically yawned, having heard it all before. "You're strong and courageous and determined, all that jazz."

"And cunning," Michael added, giving his younger brother a glare for his lazy language. "Most importantly, cunning."

"Raphael," Chuck said loudly, cutting the other three off. Raphael's eyes widened.

"Yes, Father?"

"Look through the window, my son. Tell me what you see."

Raphael hesitated in confusion, but obeyed Chuck, walking over to the huge open air window at the edge of the tower. His brothers followed him, intrigued against their will. "I see your kingdom, Father. The whole of Stormhold."

"And?"

Raphael paused then, hopefully; "My...kingdom?"

Chuck laughed almost inaudibly. "Maybe. Look up."

Raphael did so, squinting at the night sky in eagerness. Behind him, Michael stepped forward to stand just behind his younger brother, and with a smirk at his family, snapped his fingers.

A strong gust of wind blasted through the bedroom, a powerful tornado that brushed without effect past Chuck, Michael, Lucifer and Gabriel, who had all been expecting it. Raphael, however, hadn't, and with a cry of anger, the wind knocked him down, right out of the huge window. He had no way to save himself, and his three brothers watched as he tumbled down to the rocky cliff faces below.

The three, satisfied, turned back to their father to see him burst into wheezy, booming laughter. They raised eyebrows at each other, but said nothing, knowing that Raphael had only presented one more obstacle between themselves and the throne. However, they knew he was not gone. Sighing, Gabriel gestured towards the corner of the room, where they already knew what was there.

Sitting on a sofa next to the fireplace, three near-invisible men sat, uncomfortable as though the sofa they were sitting on wasn't actually in their plane of existence, but they were pretending it was. One was tall, muscular and as black as the late Raphael, with a hammer plunged into his skull and sticking up at an angle. Another was honey blonde, dressed impeccably and sipping from a wine glass as transparent as him, and he would've looked normal if his head wasn't actually detached from his body and resting on the armrest. The third, sitting between the other two, was skinny and nervous, tapping his leg with one good hand - the other side of his body and face had been obviously melted away by some sort of acid, making his expression a little harder to decipher.

As the brothers watched, Raphael suddenly misted up next to the men, just as pale and ghostly as them. His left arm was hanging, uselessly broken, his chest was caved in and spattered with blood and his nose was bent sideways. Raphael looked at himself, then at his dead brothers.

"Balthazar. Uriel. Samandriel. I'm dead, aren't I?"

"Sorry, Raffy," Balthazar, the king's fifth prince, smiled amiably. "I'm afraid we're stuck like this until the new king gets crowned. Can't become fancy stars until that happens."

Raphael slumped against the fireplace, his broken ribs creaking. "I was so damn close."

"Well, at least you haven't lost your good looks," Uriel, the fourth-born, thundered sarcastically, and Raphael sneered back at him.

"Oh please. You're not still annoyed about that whole murder thing, are you?"

"Just a bit," Balthazar's face hardened, and him and Uriel shared a look of understanding.

"That was ten years ago." Raphael made a face.

"Yeah, it was," Uriel agreed.

"And it did you so much good, killing us, didn't it, Raffy? Because of course now, you're king of Stormhold," Balthazar smirked. "Oh wait. No, you're not. You're dead."

"I was rooting for you," Samandriel, who despite being the sixth prince was considered the baby of the group, offered, but before he could finish everyone, including Michael, Lucifer and Gabriel, cut him off.

"Shut up, Samandriel."

"Boys, calm yourselves," Chuck silenced them, still wiping a small tear from his eye. His head twisted suddenly, and he looked at empty air. "Mary? Mary?"

The brothers exchanged glances. "Um, Father, Mary's not there," Gabriel said hesitantly.

Chuck looked around. "Where is your sister, Mary?"

"Sorry, Father," Gabriel apologised, and his eyes sparkled gold as he felt anger growing at his sister's absence. "You know no-one's seen Mary for years now."

Chuck nodded slowly, and after a moment of pause, shook his head slightly and grinned at his three remaining sons. "As I was saying, there are now three of you still alive. Therefore, we shall solve the situation in a less traditional manner."

All seven of his sons drew closer, watching as Chuck carefully removed his necklace. It was a heavy ruby, and as he pressed his fingers against it, his eyes grew in brightness until there were full of shining light. The Faerie light drained the red from the ruby, turning it into a plain crystal. The light faded from Chuck's eyes, and he dropped the ruby on the bed, looking older than before.

"Only he...of royal blood can restore the ruby," he gasped softly. "The one of you that who does...will become...the new king of Stormhold." With that, Chuck closed his eyes and let out his last breath.

Gabriel, Lucifer and Michael spent perhaps one more moment mourning their father's death, heads bowed in reverence. Then they were glaring at each other, and eyeing the ruby, daring another to go first.

Before anyone could make a move however, the ruby suddenly raised into the air, light similar to that in Chuck's eyes spilling from its centre. The ruby twisted several ways, as though checking its surroundings, and the shocked princes watched as it stopped, then zoomed out of the open window, away from the palace of Stormhold alltogether. It travelled higher and higher into the sky, and the stars that were watching grew more and more worried as it came closer and closer and closer and-

**_BOOM._ **

The ruby collided with a star and in an explosion of fire and ice and magic, the star shuddered and started falling.

* * *

"Dean, look!" Lisa nudged Dean where he had been lying on the rug, watching her drink the last of the champagne and wondering how he could save her from the inevitable marriage.

"What?" he asked, sitting up.

Lisa pointed at the sky, where a trail of white was blazing across slowly. "A shooting star!"

Dean studied the star sceptically, until he heard Lisa murmur, "Beautiful..." beside him. Then the star turned into a opportunity.

"More beautiful than a ring from another country?" Dean looked at her out of the corner of his eye, hopeful. Lisa frowned at him, confused.

Dean, excited again, turned to her, sitting on his knees and clasping her hands. "Lisa, if it meant you'd marry me, I'd cross the wall and I'd bring you back that fallen star."

Lisa laughed, disbelieving. "You can't cross the wall. No-one crosses the wall. Dean, you're totally ridiculous."

"I'm not an idiot! I'd do it," Dean grinned, knowing he had her. "For you, Lisa, I'd do anything."

Lisa contemplated. "My very own star..." Her eyes turned from pitying to mischievous. "Well then, Dean Winchester, you have yourself a deal."

"Awesome," Dean grinned, and his smile stayed plastered on his face even when Lisa's dropped and she blinked at him. "What?"

"Your eye...I swear..." Lisa shook her head. "I'm probably imagining it."

Dean nodded, deciding not to press the matter, still too giddy from his new chance. He leapt up and all but pushed Lisa off the rug, stuffing it into the basket along with the champagne bottle and the last of the food. He stood up proudly, and after a moment's hesitation, stepped forward to lightly kiss Lisa's forehead. She stood there, amused, and just as he turned away, Lisa added, "One week, Dean. Or I'm marrying Gordon."


	4. Discovery

Crowley, one of the three Original Daemon, had been enjoying a nice long torture when he had felt the star fall.

The hand holding the bloodstained Bowie knife relaxed as his head jerked up, concentrating on the suddenly distressed whispers filling the sky. He had just enough power to understand the Enochian, and he knew there hadn't been a disturbance like this in over 400 years - when the last star had fallen. Ignoring the sobbing Daemon boy still in front of him, Crowley wiped his hands on his apron before Travelling to his siblings. The three of them needed to be ready.

When Crowley appeared in the Original's chamber, the apron had vanished and his black suit and coat were once again spotless. Of course, the clothes weren't real, and neither was Crowley's body really - physical vessels weren't available down in Hell. However, most Daemons preferred a stable shape as opposed to black frothing mist; humanity had left them sentimental like that.

Crowley's brother and sister were already standing, facing where he had Travelled to. He was short, with lined features and grey hair, dressed like an ageing biker; she was tall, blonde and fine-boned, wearing a white silk dress that rippled in an non-existent breeze. Crowley nodded at them, smirking.

"Azazel. Lilith. I'm assuming you felt the same thing I did."

Lilith smiled, and she raised her head to look up as though to Heaven. "A star has fallen."

"There's no time to waste," Azazel stated, slinging off his leather jacket and throwing it onto the table in the middle of the chamber. "Where are the Babylon candles?"

Crowley frowned. "You used the last one, Azazel, almost 200 years ago. Don't you remember?"

Azazel paused, remembering, then grimaced. "Oh. Perhaps we can get another one?"

Lilith and Crowley stared at him - he was bemused, but she was furious. "Perhaps we can get another one?" Lilith hissed, and moved closer to Azazel, almost seeming to tower over him. The whites of her eyes grew until her pupils vanished, becoming a cold blank stare. "Has your mind become as weak as your power, brother? You talk like obtaining such things were easy."

Azazel gulped. Although all the Original Daemon were technically on the same hierarchy level, they each knew their place, and Lilith was the most power-hungry of them. "I know, Lilith. I simply thought..."

"You would have us hunt a Babylon candle while some other, lesser Daemon or Hell forbid, a human found our star?" Lilith shook her head slowly, still fixing her brother with colourless eyes. "Fool. We cannot delay."

Crowley decided to interrupt here before a full-scale family brawl broke out. "Lilith, love," he reasoned, placing a hand on her shoulder. "If we have to walk, we'll do it. But first we need information."

Lilith looked back at him, hesitated, then let the white slowly recede back to its place. After a last glare at Azazel (who smirked when she turned her back), Lilith walked to the table, where a map had appeared. She waved her hand over the surface, chanting in Latin under her breath. Flames began to engulf the map, licking at the paper and moving quickly. As Lilith finished the incantation, the flames died, leaving charcoal symbols etched onto it, as well as one part of the map that was completely unburnt. Lilith pointed at this part while her brothers crowded closer.

"Here. If the divinations are correct, the star will land in the Forest of Impala," Lilith explained. She pursed her lips, then looked at Crowley and Azazel. "That's several days journey if we're going to start from the warehouse with the gate."

"We've waited four centuries for this, Lilith," Crowley tipped his head to one side and raised an eyebrow. "What's a few more days going to make?"

Lilith nodded, and then turned to her brothers, questioning. There was a moment of silence, then Azazel voiced what they'd all been thinking. "So, which of us shall go to find it and bring it back?"

As the Original Daemon considered, they suddenly felt a twist in their stomachs as the Earth, in another dimension, got hit by something. The whispers of the stars silenced, and the siblings narrowed their eyes at each other.

"The star's landed," Crowley said quietly, and then raised his voice. "Let's draw organs again. It's easier than arguing, surely?"

Lilith looked at Azazel, who sighed and snapped his fingers. A cage popped into existence on the table, with a small and terrified ferret inside. Azazel reached into the cage and lifted a finger, the nail sharpening into a point. He slashed the small creature's neck swiftly, and then laid it on the table and made another cut right down its chest.

The siblings shut their eyes and reached down, all wincing slightly as their fingers rifled through muscle and sinew and blood. Crowley, however, squeezed one eye open after a second, squinting down at the ferret's mangled insides until he found what he was looking for. Then he shut his eyes again just as they all lifted their hands expectantly.

"I've got his kidney," Azazel sighed, disappointed.

"I've got the liver," Lilith muttered, dropping it back with disgust.

Crowley smirked. "I've got the heart."

With a flourish, he replaced the ferret's heart and smiled at his brother and sister. Azazel's eyes turned momentarily foul yellow as he suspected cheating, but he couldn't hold anything against Crowley. If Lilith was greedy, then Crowley was cunning, and Azazel knew it.

"You'll be needing what's left of the last star to have the strength to build a vessel," Lilith said to Crowley, snapping her fingers sharply. The cage and dissected ferret were replaced by a black box, which Crowley opened warily.

"There's not much left," he commented, sniffing slightly. He reached in and removed the small lump of pure light, holding it up to inspect.

"When you swallow it, use the power to immediately Travel to the gate," Azazel advised, and Crowley sighed.

"I did do this before, you know, I'm not a friggin' idiot."

"Don't talk like that to me!"

"After you've arrived," Lilith cut them off, glaring at the two of them, "build a vessel, the report back using the mirrors."

Crowley nodded, then stepped back and grinned slyly at the other Original Daemon.

"Soon, we'll have enough of this for all of us," he declared, raising the light like it was a glass. " _L'Chayim_." Then he placed the star gently in his mouth, swallowed heavily and in a flash of light, was gone.

* * *

 Rufus Turner slumped in his chair next to the wall, fiddling with his unloaded shotgun absentmindedly. Tonight, just like every other night - well, almost every other night - the gap and the field was silent, empty as a grave. Rufus knew there would be no commotion, from this side or the other. He could feel it.

Which was why he was surprised when he heard the distinct crunch of grass under feet as someone approached. Sitting up, he squinted into the midnight darkness. A figure was definitely getting closer, and Rufus stood up, getting a distinct sense of déjà vu.

"John Winchester?" he murmured, disbelieving.

The person came closer, and then into the light of Rufus' lamp.

"'Fraid not. It's Dean," Dean smiled wanly.

"Oh," Rufus raised his eyebrows. "You do look a bit like your father, boy," he sighed, eyeing Dean's bag and heavy boots. "And I suppose you're fixing to cross this wall as well, are you? Well, you can forget it," Rufus added sharply, stepping forward and crossing the gun on his chest. "Go home, kid."

"Wait, as well as who?" Dean frowned, curious despite himself.

Rufus blinked and realised what he'd said. "No-one. Nobody," he covered himself quickly, and Dean's brow wrinkled in sarcastic question. "Nobody crosses the wall, you know that. Everybody knows that!"

"Yeah..." Dean trailed off, and pursed his lips before nodding and smirking at Rufus. "No, I get it. No-one. Okay."

Rufus narrowed his eyes, not expecting the sudden defeat. But Dean just nodded to himself again and turned as if to leave. "Better just head back then," he announced.

"Good boy," Rufus backed towards his chair slowly, keeping an eye on the kid's retreating back. "Goodnight, Dean. Give my best to your dad."

Dean raised his hand in goodbye salute, still strolling casually away. Rufus turned slowly, refusing to let his guard down, waiting for-

-and there it was, the heavy pounding of feet on the grass as someone, Dean, took a run-up. Rufus whirled around to see the boy barely a metre from him, and Dean saw him too, and his eyes widened as Rufus swung his gun round and whacked him directly across the head.

Dean fell to the ground, moaning as he clutched his head. "SonofaBITCH!"

Rufus stood over him, glaring angrily at him. "Get your ass back home, Dean, or I'll tell Ellen to wash that mouth out with soap."

Dean stood up slowly, still holding his head, and gave Rufus a dirty look before walking as quickly as he could away. However, once he'd returned to the safety of the lights of Wall, his anger had drained away, to be replaced with an innate feeling of failure. Yet again, Dean had betrayed someone he cared about, and this time it was Lisa and he would never, ever be able to win her. He forced himself not to cry, but one stray tear was tracking its way down his face as he twisted his own doorknob and entered. He went to the store and pulled out an ice pack for his head, before slumping against the table and wiping away the tear angrily.

As he sat there, Ellen came in to the kitchen quietly. He looked up at her, and she sighed. "Thought I heard you come in." She saw the pack pressed against his head, and immediately moved closer, taking it from his hand and checking the injury. "What happened? Are you hurt? Was it that bastard Walker again?"

Dean laughed wryly, liking the anger in Ellen's voice. "No." He paused, then confessed. "Actually, it was the guard at the wall."

Ellen's eyes widened and she stared at him, but just as she opened her mouth another voice cut over her. "Why were you trying to cross the wall?"

Dean and Ellen looked over to see John standing in the kitchen door, wrapped in a gown and watching Dean with knitted brows. Dean gently pushed Ellen's hand away and stood to face his father. "I might ask you the same thing."

A look of surprise crossed John's face - he had not been expecting that. As Dean shook his head slowly, John Winchester sat down heavily in his chair and looked at his son with a sincere expression of sorrow. "It's kind of a long story."

After John finished, Dean sat on the floor, going through the things in the basket he'd never seen before in his life. He couldn't believe he had one time been able to fit in it, and his mind was already reeling with all the information he had just received. Ellen had gone to bed just before John had started the story, muttering something about them needing time together, and now there were a few minutes of silence as they processed.

"I have a mother," Dean said finally, and it sounded stupid even as he said it. Of course he had a mother; he couldn't be here without one. He'd known it wasn't Ellen, from the day someone had teased him in school about being a "half-orphan freak", and he'd come home to angrily question his father. On some level, he'd even known about it before then, but when the truth was out things had been easier. He'd always felt more comfortable calling her Ellen anyway. But even so, he'd never really thought about his true mother. He had no memory of her, and now that she had become something real in his world, something tangible, he was thrown. He looked up at John. "I mean, I actually have a mother. She could still be alive."

John smiled softly. "Oh, I hope so. Well, I'd like to think it."

Dean held up something that had been tucked away in the corner, under the sheets. "Is this the flower she gave you?" he murmured, staring at the perfect snowdrop.

John frowned and took the flower from him. "Yes, but I'd have thought it would have rotted away by now..." he trailed off, then shrugged and handed it back to Dean. "She told me it would bring me luck. It's yours now."

Dean smiled, genuinely smiled at John and tucked the flower in his jacket collar. "Thank you." He reached inside the basket again and found an envelope. He turned it over and his eyes widened as he saw his own name is slanting scrawl.

"It was in the basket as well," John explained. "I've never opened it."

Dean lifted the flap slowly, aware these were the first words he'd ever received from his birth mother. Out of the envelope slid a thick black candle and a thin piece of heavy paper, almost parchment. He read the letter first.

_'My dearest Dean, please know that I've only ever wanted the best for you. Had my mistress allowed it, I would have kept you in a heartbeat, but she is a cruel Daemon who is determined to keep me miserable. My greatest wish is at we can meet someday, and the fastest way to travel is candlelight. To use it, think of me and only me - I will think of you everyday, always. Remember, my beautiful boy, angels are watching over you, and the stars in the sky are always brightest when there is love in the world. Your mother, Mary.'_

Dean lifted his head, tears sparkling in his eyes again, and this time John could see clearly the blue light that was once Mary's rippling with pain and love and joy in his right eye. John glanced down, unable to see a face that looked so much like hers, and spotted the candle in his hand. Dean looked down too, and held it up for them to study.

"Well...do you have a lighter?"

* * *

 Dean came to consciousness slowly, feeling returning to his body as he blinked and tried to remember what happened. Suddenly, all the memories came flooding back - Lisa - the star - the wall - his mother - and the candle, which he could feel gripped tightly in his hand now. His father had lit it, and Dean had watched his surroundings morph and meld away, and the feeling of being sucked down a very long, very tight tube had obviously caused him to black out.

Dean was startled into focus by a small groan from underneath him, and he realised with sudden horror that he was lying on top of someone. He immediately struggled backwards, throwing himself to one side and blinking at the figure in front of him. Was it- "Mom?"

The person sat up slowly, rolled one of their shoulders almost experimentally and then said in a low, gravelly voice that was about as far from female as you could get, "I am not your mother."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't you just love the sweet smell of character introductions? Wow, I've had over 150 hits and this is only my first uploaded fanwork. Thanks for reading, you guys!


	5. Superiority

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to bennysemma for bookmarking this last time, and also Meyfer+Wincnester for commenting. Please enjoy!

He was short, shorter than Dean, but since Dean himself was just over six foot, that probably made the man about average height. He was wearing a ridiculous sized trenchcoat that hung about him casually, and underneath was a simple white shirt and badly adjusted blue tie, with black dress pants and scuffed oversized shoes. The whole outfit had a forgotten air, like he was not aware of the clothes' existence yet and if you mentioned it, he'd probably blink a few times before looking down and going, "Oh." A similar sort of expression was on his face right now: his lips pressed together in discomfort, eyebrows knitted in confusion and his eyes - Dean had never even believed dark blue eyes existed before now, but this man had them, all right - his eyes were wide and watching Dean with curiosity. His almost-black hair was tousled, sticking up at the most random angles, and as the man tipped his head to one side it suddenly occurred to Dean that there was something...fresh about him, like the feeling you get when you hold a newborn baby and realise that a day ago, this creature had not yet been introduced to the world. But the look in his eyes was ancient, knowing, at a deep contrast with a face that could not have been more than 25, and Dean purposely brushed away the feeling.

Dean looked down at his hand, where he still held the half-melted candle, and up at the man again. "I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else," he confessed, and then grinned. "Obviously you're not my mom."

The man nodded slowly, still watching him intently. "No," he agreed in that scratchy, flat tone. "I am not female, and it is beyond my ability to procreate like you."

Dean frowned, slightly put off by that response but gentleman as he was, he took a cautious step towards the man. "Well, are you alright? I didn't mean to land on you there."

The man smiled fractionally, and looked down at the ground. "Apology accepted. My body hurts slightly, and there is a pain in my right shoulder, but I believe I am all in one piece."

Dean nodded, then turned away and studied the candle again. The man did not move, and Dean felt slightly awkward at being watched while he tried to figure out what went wrong with the journey, as he had obviously turned up in a completely different place. He cast his mind back, tracking his thought process. Then it hit him.

"Dammit!" he cursed loudly, and he turned back to the man, who was looking around expectantly for some reason. " _'Light the candle and think of me.'_ That's what she said. And I was thinking of my mom, but then Lisa and the star just sort of came in and-" he cut himself off and approached the man, who was now staring at him with even stronger confusion and a hint of anxiety. "Look, man, this is going to sound crazy, but have you seen a fallen star anywhere?"

The man's face changed from uncomfortable to serious, his brow deepening as fixed Dean with a stare. "You are aware we're in a crater, aren't you?"

Dean glanced around and sure enough, he saw the walls of broken earth rising around them a good three feet, and charcoal and dust was pointing outwards from a mark in the centre. "So the star landed here?"

"Yes, this is where it fell," the man assured him. "In fact, to be specific, it fell here." The man walked over the centre of the dust lines, pointing. "Up there," he gestured to the sky, "is where it was originally. However, this necklace," the man reached into his shirt and pulled out a plain crystal on a chain, "unfortunately collided with the star, sending it towards Earth. And here," the man pointed at a spot between them, "is where you collided with it, quite by surprise."

Dean stared at the man, who looked both proud and smug, like he'd worked out a puzzle. But if all of that was true, then...

"You're the star?" Dean nearly croaked, and he took a step towards the man, frowning in disbelief. "Seriously?"

"Yes," the star confirmed. "I'm the star." He spread his arms slightly, presenting himself.

Dean paused, processing. Then he muttered, "Wow," and rubbed his chin, pondering. "I had no idea you'd be a..." Then his thoughts reasserted, and he straightened. "Look, can I just say, before I do this, I'm really sorry?"

The star narrowed his eyes in misunderstanding. "For what?"

"This," Dean said calmly, and removed a pair of handcuffs from his bag. The star watched him, not comprehending, and it was only when Dean grabbed his wrist and clicked the cuff round it he looked up at Dean, uncertainty in his eyes. Dean smoothly clicked the other cuff to his own wrist, then reached into the bag and dangled one key in front of the star's eyes.

"Now, this means you have to come with me, understand?" Dean raised an eyebrow at the star, who had made no move to take the key from him. Instead, he just looked at Dean and said, "Why?"

Dean smiled, slightly pleased with himself. "You're gonna be a gift. Lisa promised that if I could bring her a fallen star, she'd marry me."

Then Dean turned and started to walk, but he'd not even taken a step before being jerked to a halt, the handcuff biting into his wrist. It felt like he was pulling on a rock. He looked back to see the star had not even moved.

"I don't understand," the star frowned at him. "How is bringing this woman a handcuffed, injured man supposed to be a romantic gesture?"

"I didn't know you'd be-" Dean started to explain, then sighed and threw a hand up in defeat. "You'll see, okay?" He tried to leave again, but the star wasn't going, apparently, and he stopped before he hurt his hand. How was this average guy so heavy?

"I'm not going," the star declared, his baritone voice grating with command.

* * *

 After the initial shock of watching the necklace that was their only key to the kingdom depart at top speed out of the window, and the interest they couldn't hold back as they saw it collide with a star that landed somewhere in the distant south, Gabriel, Lucifer and Michael began to move quickly. Gabriel immediately left for his own chambers, gathering together supplies for the journey he inevitably had to make. Lucifer, however, went to the armoury with the intention of preparing for a fight for either one of his siblings, and Michael was just setting out for the courtyards to pay respect to his father, now at home in the heavens, when he was waylaid by the Bishop.

"Hurry, Michael," the Bishop hissed, an old, decrepit man that stopped him in the hall. "You should be on your way now. You must find the royal necklace with the ruby before your brothers do." Michael watched him coldly, raising an eyebrow at his insistence. "I would rather see you on the throne than them, Michael. You could be Stormhold's most powerful king - I don't doubt it would be a better place under your rule."

Michael narrowed his eyes at the Bishop's favouritism. "Really?" he drawled, unimpressed.

"Well, isn't that fascinating?" a voice came from behind them, and Michael turned to see Lucifer and Gabriel standing there, watching the Bishop with obvious dislike. Lucifer now had a long, sleek shotgun slung across his back, as well as a knife tucked into his boot and probably a dozen other weapons concealed on his person - Gabriel had moved onto a chocolate bar, which he was popping squares off of and chewing with threateningly slow satisfaction.

"Mm, I'd have to agree with you there, bro," Gabriel replied to Lucifer, and his hazel eyes began to grow pure gold with mischief as he smirked at the Bishop.

"Prince Lucifer! Gabriel!" the Bishop flustered, seeing the way Gabriel was flexing his fingers, as though about to click. "Well, well...I, well...since you're all here, why don't you join me in a toast?" he eventually stammered, clutching at straws.

"What a good idea," Lucifer smiled, and snapped his fingers quick enough to miss. A pedestal was suddenly between the four, with goblets for each of them filled with a dark red wine.

The Bishop immediately took a cup, not caring that is was in front of Michael, and raised it quickly. "To the new King of Stormhold, whichever one of you fine fellows it might be." Michael, Lucifer and Gabriel all raised their respective goblets.

"To the new king of Stormhold."

The three princes all sipped, but the Bishop downed the drink quickly, placing the empty cup back on the pedestal almost immediately. The brothers glanced at each other, disdainful, and turned to see the Bishop start coughing violently. As they watched, he clutched at the pedestal, eyes wide, and then slumped in the ground, dead. There was a moment of pause, and then Michael and Gabriel widened their eyes as well, and started spitting, with Michael holding onto his chest and staring with hate at Lucifer, who had a bright smile on his face. "You!"

"Me," Lucifer agreed, watching his brothers fall to the floor and their goblets roll away. When they stopped twitching, his smile grew until it was a grin, and the pupils of his eyes turned bright white blue. He looked up at the ceiling of the hall, open to the dark night sky, and raised his arms outward. He was just really feeling the joy of being last when he heard uncontrollable laughter behind him.

Lucifer, turned, furious, to see Michael doubled over on the ground, laughing so loud it reverberated around the hall. Pulling himself up using the pedestal, still clutching his stomach, Michael's laughter calmed to chuckles. "You...really thought you were...king?"

Lucifer, still angry at being humiliated, let the ice die from his eyes and picked up the Bishop's cup from the pedestal. Michael saw this.

"You killed him?"

"No, you did," Lucifer looked up at his brother, smiling sweetly. "By drinking from the wrong cup."

"Well, doesn't this suck?" they both heard, and turned around to see a misty Gabriel looking down at his own dead body. He sighed dramatically, and took a bite out of the chocolate bar that he'd apparently taken across the veil with him. "I was so ready to get that necklace. Had a secret route and everything." Gabriel looked at his living siblings and raised the bar in mock salute. "Looks like it's just you two now. I'm going to find Balthazar - that mother owes me twenty bucks." Then he was gone.

Michael stood staring at the spot where Gabriel had been for a few moments longer, and Lucifer sighed. "When you finish wrestling with your big-brother's conscience, may I suggest you return to your chamber?"

Michael glared at Lucifer, aware that it was he was the only thing left to take down for the throne. Lucifer walked past him, but not before stopping, clamping Michael's shoulder with his hand and saying quietly, "Just leave the quest for the stone to me."

* * *

Crowley, not used to this much power, fell to the floor of the warehouse, gasping from the journey upstairs and the drain of building a physical vessel. He slowly stood up inside the circle, a simple gateway allowing Daemons of certain power to pass from Hell to the Earth, and dusted himself off, pleased with his work. He looked just like his shape in Hell had been, with perhaps a little more shine to the coat and longer stubble, but there hadn't been that much of the star left at all - and the heart of a star had incredible effects on Faerie as it was, granting the ridiculous gift of immortality. Daemons, already being dead, simply got a really great power boost, but it was a boost that could last years.

Stepping out of the circle, he glanced around the warehouse and saw a tall object covered by a sheet. He crossed to it and threw back the sheet to reveal a mirror, tall and elegant if slightly faded. Crowley tapped on the glass impatiently, and after a moment his reflection was replaced by Azazel and Lilith, who were looking in a twin mirror down in the chambers in Hell.

"Feels good to be solid again," Crowley smiled at them. "And I like having my own body to play with, as opposed to wearing some human."

"You look good," Lilith commented drily. "I assume the journey was fine."

"Bumpy," he replied, still smirking. "Power takes some getting used to, darling."

"When you return, we can all feel like that again," Azazel nodded excitedly.

"Don't worry, brother," Crowley assured him. "I won't fail."

He ran his fingers lightly over the glass, letting their image fade, before covering it gently with the sheet again and turning to the doors of the warehouse. _Now,_ Crowley thought, _the King is back in business._

* * *

 

Dean turned himself over stubbornly, trying to get comfortable with one of his hands sticking up in the air and resting painfully against the star's knee, still attached by handcuff. Next to him, the star sat cross-legged on the ground, his hands clasped together and looking up at the sky. _Probably wishing he was up there,_ Dean wondered. He was starting to half-wish the star was back up there too. Sighing, he propped himself up on his free arm and looked at the star.

"Jeez, dude, don't you ever sleep?"

"Not at night," the star turned to him, blinking like it was obvious. "At night, stars have considerably more important things to do. Coming out, shining...it may have escaped your notice."

Dean rolled his eyes, deciding not to deadpan his sincere tone. From what he could tell, the star wasn't very good at understanding Dean's sarcasm. "Yeah well, it may have escaped yours, star, but you're not in the sky anymore. Shining is off the menu for now, and as for coming out..." Dean looked at the star again, taking in his appearance. "Well, nobody here's judging."

He chuckled at his own joke but caught the star staring at him again and stopped, uncomfortable. The star continued the look, and Dean found himself at a loss of what to say. Those blue eyes were piercing, and he felt like his mind was being read as he was caught in the star's gaze. After a few moments of silence, the star tipped its head to the side again. "You don't have to call me star. I have a name, you know."

Dean blinked, coughed, and tore his eyes away from that endless blue. Twisting to lie flat on his back, he considered this. "Stars have names?"

"Of course they do," he replied, looking out at the sky again. "Mine is Castiel."

Dean raised his eyebrows, but left it. "Well, Castiel, I'm Dean." Castiel nodded in acceptance, still staring at the sky wistfully. Dean hesitated, then tried again. "Dude, seriously, unless you've got some special star way of sleeping while walking, I suggest you get some rest."

"I told you, I'm not walking," Castiel said with finality, and Dean detected slight annoyance creeping into his voice. At least he was getting a reaction from him.

"Okay, okay, whatever you say," Dean muttered. Then he added, louder, "I mean, it wasn't like I was going to put you back in the sky or anything after I brought you to Lisa. No, instead you'd rather sit in a crater. I get it."

Castiel chuckled, a low rumble of derision that made Dean stare at him, thrown. The sound was by no means clear or sweet, like Dean so often thought of Lisa's, but there was a genuineness about it, like Castiel was not used to being amused. "And just how were you even planning to get me back in the sky?"

Dean smirked, and lifted the candle he had stashed in his bag. "I find the fastest way to travel is by candlelight."

Castiel turned, and his eyes widened as he saw the chunky black stub. "You have a Babylon candle," he murmured.

"Oh, so this has a name too?" Dean inspected the candle. "Awesome. Yes, I have a babbling candle."

"Babylon," Castiel corrected.

"That's what I said. Anyway, I was going to give the rest of it to you."

"But, it barely has one use left," Castiel frowned, looking down at Dean.

"Then be grateful I'm not using it to get us both back to the wall right now," he countered, and pushing himself up with his free hand, tucked the Babylon candle into his bag again. "Look, unless you have a better way home..."

Castiel, still stubborn, sat looking at the ground for a moment. Then he unclasped his hands and held the handcuffed wrist up. "On the condition I receive the remainder of the candle afterwards, I will come with you to see this Lisa."

Dean grinned and jumped up quickly, waiting impatiently for Castiel to raise himself from the ground. Once he was up, Dean started climbing the shallow edges of the crater, but it was harder with only one accessible hand, and the other was being pulled back by the star's slow ascent. When they reached the top, Dean was breathing hard, and he glared at Castiel, who seemed completely relaxed. They started into the forest that surrounded the crater together, but Castiel kept lagging, watching the trees and forest life around them in wonder.

"Dammit, you are going to have to walk quicker than that if we're going to get back to Lisa in a week," Dean said angrily, pulling Castiel away from a silver birch. Castiel nodded, but in a few moments he was enraptured by a bluebird's nest. Dean sighed again. This was going to be a long few days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, do you want a cute Destiel song for first meeting? ~~You know you do~~ Like A Star by Corinne Bailey Rae. And trust me, it's more accurate than just the title. Thanks!


	6. Distress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Rhiannyx for bookmarking this!

Ruby was camped out by the side of the road with her cart, heating leftover fries in a pan over a burner and cooking a hare when a carriage stopped by her. She shielded her eyes from the sun and looked up, taking in the sleek blackness of the vehicle and the matching horses that pulled it. There was no driver. Ruby sighed, sitting up straight and pulling her long dress closer around her - she recognised trouble when she saw it.

The carriage door opened and a man stepped out, short with dark brown hair and dressed impeccably. He started to walk towards Ruby, and she immediately assumed defensive.

"Please, good sir," she whimpered. "Leave me be. I'm just a poor old gypsy, trying to-"

"Oh, shut up," the man cut her off, sliding his hands into his pockets and stopping. "I know what you are, and I swear on the depths of Hell where we both belong I'm not going to hurt you today."

Ruby stopped, paused, and then her eyes turned black.

The man smiled. "Exactly." He gestured to her meal. "Can I share? It's been a long journey."

Ruby smiled back and her pupils receded. "Just wanted to make sure. No harm in checking," she said as she turned to her cart. "Let me get you a seat. Mary!"

The girl poked her head out of the door, saw the Daemon man and understood immediately. Sighing, she snapped her fingers and a rickety wooden chair appeared next to Ruby's fire. "Come on, you can do better than that," Ruby snapped at her, and Mary narrowed her eyes, the blue light spiking in agitation. She snapped her fingers again and the chair changed to an armchair, complete with stuffed cushions and footrest. Mary swished back inside before she could be called again, and Ruby glared at her impatience.

"Faerie on a leash?" the man commented, sitting down gratefully. "I like it."

She handed him a plate with fries and the hare's head and leg, and started picking at her own. "It has its perks. So, stranger, where are you going with such neat wheels?"

The man was crunching down the hare's head greedily, and swallowed before replying. "I'm searching for a fallen star," he boasted, now chewing the fries. "He fell not far from here, and when I get him, I can use my knife to carve his heart right out of his chest while he's still breathing. Then, we shall have unimaginable...power..." he trailed off, dropping his fry back on the plate and frowning.

Ruby didn't notice this, too preoccupied with what he had said; she'd heard of the strength and magic the heart of a star could give a Daemon, and she became excited at the thought. However, she kept a blank face as she said, "Fallen star? That's the best news I've heard in a while. I could use a boost myself, it's annoying having to call her whenever I need something big. So where did you-"

"Limbus grass!" the man shouted suddenly, throwing the plate of food to the ground and standing up, his face fuming. Ruby stopped, surprised, and her eyes flickered to the bunch of pale blue weeds under the chair she was on. "You dare try to steal the truth from me using Limbus grass?!"

Ruby winced as she heard lightning crackle in the suddenly darkening sky, and looked at the Daemon man. Okay, so maybe she'd added a little seasoning... "Do you have any idea what you've just done, Ruby?" the man hissed, and she froze.

"How do you know my...who are you?"

"Look again," the man thundered, and suddenly his eyes were fully red, a burning, frothing crimson fire that writhed with history and power and malice. Ruby shrieked as the sky turned grey, lightning flashing around them as she fell to her knees. She was terrified, more terrified than she'd ever been in her death, and as the Original Daemon Crowley stepped towards her she held her hands out in despair.

"Please, I won't go looking for the star, Your Dark Majesty, I swear-" she started to beg, but Crowley just laughed, those red eyes still glaring at her.

"Look all you want, sweetheart," he assured her, and then his expression turned cold and he held out a hand, cupping green fire. Ruby shut her eyes, almost crying as she heard his voice reverberate with magic. "You shall not see the star, touch it, smell it or hear it. You cannot perceive him even if he stands before you." Crowley's hand brushed over her head, and she shivered as the spell settled on her.

The sky began to clear almost as quickly as it had darkened, and soon bright sunlight was once again streaming down on them. Crowley's eyes faded to their usual muddy green, and he smiled at a job well done. Then he felt a stinging pain in his right arm, and pulled back his sleeve to see the blisters on his hand that had appeared when he had conjured up the carriage had continued down his forearm, splitting his skin in angry red wounds. He hissed at the pain and covered it up again, looking back as Ruby got unsteadily to her feet.

"Pray you never meet me again, Ruby," Crowley commanded coldly, and marched back to his carriage. His first day back on Earth had not gone well.

* * *

 "So, let me confirm this..." Castiel frowned, trailing behind Dean and stumbling slightly. "You believe you know we're going in the right direction because, and I quote, 'You just do'?"

Dean sighed, yanking his cuffed hand forward in an effort to get Castiel to move faster. He was boiling in the warm forest with his heavy jacket on, but he couldn't remove it without uncuffing himself, and he was too worried Castiel would make a break for it. He didn't understand how the star could be so comfortable in the heavy trenchcoat he was wearing. Since when did stars wear trenchcoats anyway?

"I don't know why, but I do, okay?" he explained exasperatedly, and then added sarcastically, "Maybe it's my love for Lisa guiding me home."

"Of course not," Castiel denied immediately, missing the joke completely again. "Human emotion cannot be a physical compass, plus you are distinctly less sensitive to others' feelings than most life forms in this world."

"Look, Casper, whether you like it or not-"

"My name is Castiel," the star corrected, and tripped again before almost falling into Dean. He caught himself, but pulled on the handcuffs sharply and Dean cried out, turning around angrily. Castiel looked up at him, and Dean detected pain in his eyes.

"Could you please just slow down?" the star asked, and Dean felt an unnecessary stab of guilt.

"Okay," he muttered, and started walking again, but slower so Castiel was alongside him, albeit staggering slightly. He looked at the star out of the corner of his eye, then licked his lips and said, "Look, we're going north, all right? The wall is north. And if you look up, even during the day, you can see..." he squinted up at the sky, stopping by a tree to see closer. "...the evening star? Man, that's weird. I don't think-"

"I'm assuming you've lost the north star?" Castiel commented, and there was amusement in his voice for some reason.

"No, I'm serious, I-" Dean cut off as he looked back at Castiel, who had his head on an angle. "Wait...that was you? Really?" Castiel simply lifted one corner of his mouth in a secret smile then sat down heavily in the roots of the tree. Dean had enough sense to loosen his arm to go with him, but he was confused. "What are you doing?"

"Sitting down," Castiel replied, leaning his head back against the tree trunk. "I'm exhausted, Dean."

"Dammit, Castiel, not again," Dean's brow knitted in exasperation. "I said we'd stop off at the next village to eat and rest."

"Dean, please," Castiel cracked open one eye, and Dean felt the guilt again as he looked down into that deep blue. "It's midday. I've never stayed up this late before. Just let me sleep, even for a few minutes."

Dean hesitated, then ran a hand through his hair and before looking around. "Okay, well..." he considered. "Well....I'll...you sleep. I'll go get something to eat." He pulled out the keys from his bag and clicked the cuff off his own wrist, twisting his hand round in relief. Then he pulled the cuff (and Castiel's hand with it) and shut it round a branch that protruded from the tree's trunk and split into two after half a metre. Castiel watched him curiously.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Dean muttered, checking the lock before dropping the keys back in his bag and stepping back. "Making sure you don't run away."

Castiel seemed to find this funny for some reason, as another small smile appeared on his face and he jangled the cuffs, testing. "Why did you have handcuffs in your bag anyway, Dean?" he questioned, innocent, and Dean blushed.

"Never know when they might come in useful," he muttered, before nodding at Castiel and walking away. After a few metres, he stopped and looked back to see the star with his eyes shut again, already seeming sound asleep. Dean watched the way his chest rose and fell slowly, and wondered how stars could sleep in the sky. _I mean,_ he thought, _in the end they're just burning balls of gas and rock, aren't they? Or maybe that was just in my world. Maybe here, they are conscious and watching and waiting for the world to do something. Maybe they've always been there. There's never been a time without the evening star, I know, and if Castiel really is it, then how old is he? The way he talks about humans...we must be insignificant._

Dean blinked and realised he'd been staring at the sleeping Castiel for a while now, thinking about the star. He shook his head and turned away, starting towards the north again.

* * *

 Lucifer stood at the edge of the cliff, looking out at the sea below him with contempt. Behind him, his party of trusted castle slaves were checking his horses and their supplies, and after a few minutes one approached him. "The soothsayer, Your Highness, as requested."

Lucifer turned to see the soothsayer, a thin olive-skinned woman with white-painted lips, standing by a rock, her runes clenched in her hands. He joined her, standing opposite and watching her with distaste.

"West, you said. West we came. And still no stone." He placed one hand delicately on the handle of his Colt, slung across his hip, but his eyes had dangerous light blue light flickering at the edge of the iris. "Do you propose we start swimming?"

The soothsayer shivered and couldn't meet the prince's gaze. "Sire, I'm only telling you what the runes say. I ain't got no more power than that."

"Well, consult them again!" Lucifer shouted suddenly, his hand slamming down on the rock. Everyone around them jumped, and the soothsayer took a frightened step back. Lucifer paused, getting a grip on himself, then removed his hand slowly and gestured to the rock's surface in invitation.

Gingerly, the soothsayer moved closer, and was just about to throw the runes when Lucifer raised his hand again, causing her to flinch. "Wait. Before we look for the stone, I have another question."

The soothsayer nodded, unwilling to get on his bad side.

"Am I the seventh son?"

Confused but obedient, then soothsayer threw. "Yes."

"Another question. Is my favourite colour blue?"

Throw. "Yes."

"Has ridiculously begging or pleading ever convinced me to spare the life of a traitor?"

Throw. Pause.

"What does that mean?" Lucifer questioned, looking down at the stones' symbols.

"That means no," the soothsayer said quietly.

"Throw them again. This time, throw them high," Lucifer commanded, and there was a moment's silence as the soothsayer waited for the question. When Lucifer remained impassive, she threw the stones, as high as she could. The group watched them fall, wondering what was the point, and just before they hit the rock, Lucifer asked, in a voice as cold as ice, "Do you work for my brother?"

The runes landed and the soothsayer's eyes widened, looking up at the prince with growing fear. She took a step back as if to run, but Lucifer lazily raised a hand and snapped his fingers. The soothsayer lifted off the ground screaming, and flew out over the cliff edge where she hung, sobbing. Without hesitation, Lucifer clicked again and she started falling, and then he pulled out his Colt, aimed and fired. The bullet blasted through her forehead, cutting off her shrieks and when she disappeared over the edge, the last thing they saw was her blinking away her own blood.

Lucifer watched her, and then, ignoring the horror spreading through his company, turned back to the rock, picked up the runes and threw them. "So, do we continue north?"

* * *

 Castiel jerked awake suddenly, dragged from misty dreams of home for reasons unknown. He looked around at the forest and realised it was getting gradually darker. He swore it had only been midday a few minutes ago, but apparently he had slept through most of the afternoon. If so, then where was Dean? Shouldn't he be back with food by now?

Castiel sighed softly and sat up, stretching his aching back and wondering dimly what food was like. He wondered whether there were special requirements, such as a table or a ritual before eating, and whether he couldn't eat some foods but others. Despite the millions of years he'd watched the Earth, and the few centuries he'd seen humanity evolve, things like food and sleep were beyond him still. They were physical needs, and when he had still been in the sky, they were unimportant.

Of course, then he hadn't expected to fall. And now he was on Earth, with a body, wearing some strange attire that made him excrete water and he wasn't sure why, being dragged across land by some bright-eyed young man convinced that he would cause a woman to fall in love and marry him. Castiel may have known nothing about food, but he knew quite a bit about love. Even so, he had always thought that it took a lot more to make someone love you than gifts and promises. But maybe Dean knew something he didn't.

Castiel chuckled to himself. _Now that would be a first._

Dean was an enigma in himself to Castiel: kind one minute, giving Castiel the candle to get himself home, another cruel as he pulled Castiel through the forest impatiently. He said the most ridiculous things, like about how his love for Lisa was guiding him home, and seemed to have an obsession with continually referring to Castiel by his gender. He also thought a lot of things were 'awesome', even when to Castiel there was no awe in it at all. He came off as content and almost shallow, and if Castiel had known the word he would have probably called Dean a 'dork'. As it was, Castiel simply couldn't shake the feeling Dean was uncomfortable for some reason, and this told him there was more to this freckled six-foot mystery than he liked to let on.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a rustling noise in a bush close by, and he turned towards it. "Who's there?" he called out tentatively, and he voice sounded thin and quiet in the depths of the forest. There was another rustle, and he tried again. "Dean? Is that you?" Silence, then more sounds, closer this time, and Castiel started to feel a lightness in his stomach that he decided signified worry. "Dean, this is not funny," he shouted louder, wondering why his voice had become higher all of a sudden. Human bodies were odd things.

The rustling quietened, but now Castiel was on edge, every noise and sight amplified tenfold around him. He knew Dean would be back soon, but he couldn't wait that long on his own. For some reason, he felt safer with Dean there, probably because he was human born and bred and Castiel was just starting out.

Castiel reached up with his free hand and pressed two fingers against the handcuff on his wrist, hearing a click before pulling his wrist away. The cuff came apart and he stood up, stretching himself out with the handcuffs left dangling on the branch. Of course, stars had power, the celestial kind that would be incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands, he knew. He has been able to free himself the entire time he had been with Dean - the issue had raised in that he didn't want to. Not only had he no idea what he would do, but Dean had promised him the rest of the Babylon candle to get home, and Castiel wanted to return home more than anything.

Now, however, he was alone in a forest, and hungry and getting slowly colder. He could hear the Enochian whispers of the stars above him, but only faintly - human hearing was limited at best, and he definitely could not understand what they were saying. With a nod to his brothers and sisters in the sky, Castiel pulled his coat closer around him and headed off in the direction he was sure Dean had gone in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like it's time for a badass evil song for Crowley and Lucifer. Sympathy for the Devil by The Rolling Stones came on while I wrote this, so let's go with that. Thanks!


	7. Reverse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to niceboulder for bookmarking this, and sorry for the couple of days wait on this chapter. Thanks!

"Be careful how much magic you use, brother," Lilith advised through the glass. "There was only a small part of the star left, and it was stale at best. Is it beginning to show?"

Crowley, sitting in the carriage with the mirror propped up in front of him (he'd summoned it with a click of fingers), narrowed his eyes at his sister and raised his right arm, pulling the sleeve back and revealing the scarring. "One carriage and a small enchantment, love; hardly the stuff of nightmares. I'm already avoiding Travelling as it is."

"Well, even using the mirror will take it's toll," Azazel explained. "Better you call us only when you're in danger."

"And use the runes to locate the star yourself," Lilith volunteered.

Crowley glanced at the seat beside him, where the sheep knuckles lay in disarray. "I used them, and apparently he should have been in the forest. But now they don't make any sense."

"It is because you must stay where you are, Crowley," Lilith sighed, and Crowley inclined his head. The carriage halted suddenly. "He is coming to you."

"Well, that makes everything easier." Crowley started to climb out of the carriage, but Azazel stopped him.

"Be careful, brother. You need to be delicate."

Crowley looked back. "Come again?"

"Misery and humanity has drained him. He's barely shining," Lilith said, looking down at a table that Crowley couldn't see. "Set a trap that will make sure his heart is glowing before you cut it out."

Crowley nodded. "Soon, we'll be strong again," he smiled, and touched the glass to let their image dissolve. Then he rolled his eyes. "Bastards."

Stepping out of the carriage, he looked at where he'd stopped: a crossroads, and the irony make him chuckle. Oh, his people knew all about crossroads, all right. Hell's biggest income was from humans just begging to sell their souls for the life of their dreams, even if it only lasted ten years, and he still thought of the crossroads deal as one of his best ideas. He contemplated the one he was in - one road led into the forest several miles away, another travelled alongside it where he had just been, and the others went to various towns.

Crowley looked back at his horses, thinking. Then he turned to a corner and held out his hands, concentrating on the spell. The twilight sky began to fill with dark clouds and thunder boomed right above his head, as well as a strong wind beginning to blow, but Crowley remained still in the middle of it all. Green magic crackled at his fingertips, and then something began to appear. Fold was the only word that could describe it - first a door, then walls, then windows and climbing ivy and a roof and a small stables began to twist out on themselves to take their place like a magnificently complex origami. When the building had completely formed, Crowley stayed frozen for another second, then with a final flash of lightning, dropped his hands and staggered slightly, breathing hard. He cried out as the pain burned across his left arm and what remained of his right, and he knew without looking the skin would be broken and seething. So much for the durability of homemade vessels.

Above him, the night sky had returned to normal, and the first stars were beginning to show. Crowley made a face at them, before sticking his hands in his pockets and admiring his work. The inn was two floors, red brick and lit with soft lamps, and the light from inside was just the right amount of warm and inviting. Crowley turned and flicked his fingers at the carriage, which detached itself from the horses and sped round the side of the inn to rest near the stables. Then he held out one hand to two of the horses, the green magic growing again and the storm starting up, albeit smaller. The green surrounded the two horses, and then began to morph and change before Crowley's eyes. After a few seconds, he pulled his hand and the magic back, and now before him stood a plump black-haired woman with an oddly long nose, and a teenage girl with unfortunate teeth. Crowley was ready this time, and when he felt the pain flash over his chest, his only reaction was a small hiss. He pointed to the woman and girl disdainfully.

"I am Anthony, the innkeeper. You are my wife, you're our daughter." The humans simply stared, and then the girl shook her head slightly as a fly flew near her face and whipped her hair round to hit it. She brayed softly, satisfied. Crowley pressed a hand against his forehead - he'd forgotten what migraines felt like, but this was coming pretty close.

"Don't say anything," he commanded them, and then gestured to the other two horses behind them. "Take them to the stables. Then, get everything ready. Our special guest will be here soon."

* * *

 Dean chewed on another few fries as he balanced the bag of drinks and food in the other hand, walking down the path to where he'd left Castiel. The nearest village had been about two hours away, and when he'd got there he'd had trouble finding somewhere to get food. There were strange choices as well, and Dean was reminded of the odd things his father had said he'd seen when he crossed the wall. But thankfully this universe had not gone on with the invention of fries or a good beer, and since Dean had no idea what Castiel would eat, he'd grabbed a salad, water and something that looked like sweet bread roll as well. Sam would have been proud of him.

Dean was cut off from what would have probably have developed into homesick thoughts by the realisation that he couldn't see Castiel anywhere. He stopped, and looked around. He was sure it had been somewhere near here, but it was hard to tell in the dimming light. He retraced his steps, and that was when he saw it: his own cuffs hanging on the branch of a tree, one side unlocked. Dean cursed loudly.

"Dammit, how did you even get free?" he dropped the bag by the tree's roots and turned around slowly, eyes flickering to every edge of the forest. "Castiel? CASTIEL!" But his shouts fell flat. Dean rubbed his chin, two days' stubble spiking his fingers, and he sighed. "Oh, you son of a bitch..."

He was at a loss. Castiel had gone, and he had no idea where or how or why, and he had no idea what to do next. He couldn't return home without the star, but Castiel was lost in this foreign world that he understood even less than Dean did. Dean knew it was his fault - he'd been the one forcing Castiel to walk faster all day, dragging him through the forest to meet a girl he didn't even want to see. Of course he'd take off as soon he had the chance.

Dean's self-directed blame was interrupted by something - or, more accurately, someone. Dean clutched his head in pain and hissed and a sudden buzzing echoed through it, like a radio struggling to find the right station, and suddenly the buzzing was laced with words, first in some sharp unknown language, then fading into English.

"You need to protect our brother, Dean...protect Castiel...he is in grave danger...he was worried and broke the handcuffs to look for you...but now he is headed towards a trap...no star is safe in Stormhold...the last to fall, Anna, was 400 years ago...was captured by the Original Daemon, the same ones who hunt Castiel now...they tricked her...cared for her...and when her heart was once more aglow...they cut it from her chest...and-"

The voices slipped back into the strange language on the last two words, but Dean already knew. He could see it in his head, images flashing through like flicking through a photo album - two men and a woman with eyes of red, yellow and white turning - a red-haired girl in a black coat being dragged - the girl strapped to a table, screaming in terror - the woman bringing down a knife and slicing into the girl's chest. Dean saw it all, and felt choking fear for Castiel, but he was distracted by the voices becoming understandable again.

"There is no time to waste...there is a coach coming, Dean...by any means possible...you must get on it... _Run!"_

The last word reverberated around Dean's head loudly, and the buzzing, images and the voices all cut off abruptly. Dean staggered, obeying the last phrase mindlessly, and then he heard shouts and a shadow was over him. He fell backwards, crying out.

In front of him, a large carriage had stopped, the horses pulling it frantic as the horseman tried to calm them down. It had a crest on its door - a flash of lightning with a pair of black wings - and this door swung open, a man stepping out. Dean shielded his eyes from the lamps at the front of the carriage, and then man stopped, looking down at him.

"If Lucifer insists on sending a boy to do a man's job-" the man began, and raised one of his hands threateningly, despite it being empty. Dean sat up properly and held out his own hands in desperation.

"Stop, please!" he shouted, and the man paused. Dean got to his feet and made a sign of surrender. "I don't know a Lucifer. I just a need a lift."

The man lowered his hand, but there was suspicion in his eyes. There also seemed to be occasional flickers of turquoise in the pale green, but Dean was probably imagining it. He shook his head and gestured to himself. "Look at me, seriously. I'm unarmed. Please, just let me ride with you."

"I'm afraid that's impossible," the man replied in the voice of someone who was used to getting his own way. "I'm on a quest of enormous importance."

"Well, then you may as well take me along," Dean tried, turning on his charm and giving the man a smile. "You may need another pair of hands, and maybe I got thrown into your path with just as much luck as you got thrown into mine. Right?"

The man stayed still, and Dean's smile lost some of its hope. Then he gestured to the carriage. "Get in." Dean's face broke into a proper grin this time.

"Thanks, man." For some reason, this made the man's face relax and he turned and strolled towards to carriage, Dean following. He climbed in, and shut the door behind him. When he turned, he expected to see the man sitting on the opposite side, perhaps drinking something and watching him, but instead he found it crowded. His eyes widened as he saw five men sitting on the benches, all of them transparent and sliding in and out of his focus as though not quite there. The man was sitting between two of them, seemingly at ease, and banged the top of the carriage to get it moving again. Dean almost fell as the jolting started, and he put a hand out to catch himself on the bench. However, this hand also went through someone's knee, a man wearing a blazer who's blond head was resting on his lap, and Dean was so surprised he let go and fell over anyway. The men all laughed.

"Honestly, Faerie boy, you'd think you'd seen a ghost," the man commented, and they laughed harder. Dean turned crimson and struggled up from the floor, before sitting on the bench opposite him, close to the door and trying not to fall into the ghost next to him, a heavy-set black man with a hammer stuck in his head. Dean realised what the man had said and turned to him, confused.

"Did you just call me a fairy?"

"Of course," the man blinked, and looked at Dean. "You are Faerie, aren't you? I could see it when your eye changed."

"My eye did what?" Dean was aware he sounded like a total idiot, but he was too curious to care. The man leaned towards him, looking annoyed.

"Are you mentally retarded?" the man said. "Your eye, boy. When you smiled, genuinely happy at being able to take a ride with me, there were flashes of blue in your green eye. I'm assuming since it was only the right eye, you're only half-Faerie, and it was obviously your mother because Faerie eye colour is passed on maternally. Don't worry, we're all Faerie here as well. So, how much power do you have?"


	8. Crossroads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Fie for bookmarking this! Wow, prepare for a character collision.

Castiel had almost resigned himself to being misdirected forever when he first saw the lights of the inn. He'd left the forest half an hour ago to step into late night darkness and pouring rain, and now he was soaked, cold, hungry and slightly afraid. Though his sense of direction was usually impeccable, it was difficult to lock a reading onto a moving being; he had never found Dean, or anyone else for that matter, so he welcomed this first sign of civilisation for miles. He came closer and saw the large building had a sign hanging in front of it, a picture of a crown with the words 'King of the Crossroads Inn' above. Castiel didn't understand the name, but he saw lights and hoped the people inside could help him. He approached cautiously, ducking under the arched doorway to knock gently on the door.

It swung open to reveal a short, dark-haired man wearing a black dress shirt and waistcoat. He looked Castiel, eyes widening, then held out a hand to gesture him inside.

"Dear God, sir, are you alright? Come in, come in, out of the rain!" Castiel blinked at him, unsure how to respond, and the man stepped forward to put an arm round his shoulders and pull him inside. "We have food and drink, a warm bed and plenty of hot water for a bath."

Castiel nodded, understanding this, and entered willingly into a bright and airy reception. There was a bar to one side, with a roaring fire on the other, and his body's human instinct drew him closer to it. Behind him, the man shut the door and gestured a girl closer, pointing her to the bar and muttering something. Then he came back to Castiel, guiding him to a chair near the fire where he sat and hunched towards the heat, grateful. The girl brought him a drink, and Castiel took it, giving her a small smile. The man began to hang a robe on the rack near the fire and turned to him, smiling.

"My name is Anthony, son. You look like Hell, I must say, so how about I run you a bath, yes? How do you like it? Warm, hot or boil-a-lobster?" Anthony's smile widened at the last one, and Castiel wondered if it was a joke. Dean was fond of making those, he knew.

"I really don't know," he confessed, truthfully.

"Then let me choose for you," Anthony offered, and Castiel nodded, draining the last of the drink. "Now, let's get you out of your wet things, shall we?" He gestured to the girl, who helped Castiel up and began to remove his coat.

Crowley left and went upstairs to a room, where he began to fill the bath with hot water and bubbles. Then he went back into the bedroom and, glancing back to make sure the star hadn't entered yet, removed a long, silver blade from his boot and laid it underneath the bed, hidden from view. He turned just in time for the star to come in, wearing a bathrobe and followed by the girl, and Crowley gave him another smile and pointed him into the bathroom. "There's your bath, sir."

Crowley waited until he was sure the star had got in, then bustled into the room carrying another drink for him. Sure enough, the star was lying back in the bath, eyes shut and the bubbles covering every inch of him up to his shoulders. Crowley could see a thick gold necklace resting on his chest, and wondered vaguely whether the last star had one of those. It didn't matter, he decided, and put the drink down on the floor before sitting on a chair next to the bath. He smiled as he noticed the star was starting to give off a soft glow, and asked, "Feeling better?"

The star cracked open one eye and nodded. "Much, thank you," he said in his oddly gravelly tone, and Crowley resisted rolling his eyes. "The warm water is surprisingly comforting."

"Well, you can't underestimate the powers of a nice, hot bath," Crowley agreed, and reached down to dip the end of his fingers in the water. He flicked them fractionally, and felt a sliver of green magic trail down into the water. "How's your shoulder?"

The star blinked, and if he had turned his head he would have seen the green spread across his shoulder for half a second before sinking in and disappearing. Instead, he just rolled it, and quietly exclaimed, "That is extraordinary."

Crowley pulled his hand back, satisfied, and inclined his head. "Trust me, it was the least I could do. I'm just glad you're feeling better."

The star nodded, content, and the glow around him increased. Crowley noted this. "You seem happier in yourself, as well."

"I do feel happier. Less...troubled," the star trailed off slightly, shutting his eyes and leaning back.

"Wonderful," Crowley murmured, his smile suddenly seeming a lot colder. "Nothing like a nice soak to warm the cockles of your heart, we always say."

The star didn't move, and Crowley's smile dropped; he didn't want the star asleep here. He tapped him on the shoulder and the star frowned and turned his head slightly, looking at him. Crowley stood up and just in time, the girl came in with the robe he had hung downstairs. He took it from her, nodding his head towards to door to leave, then held it out for the star to put on. The star understood and Crowley shut his eyes as he stood up - I mean, there was a reason he'd filled the bath with bubbles.

Crowley took him back into the bathroom, pleased at the way the glow around the star had intensified brightly, and pulled back the bedcover. "Now, sir, will you be wanting anything before you get into bed?" Crowley asked him, as the star sat, running his hands over the mattress with interest. "We have wine, water, hot chocolate...I can whip you up something to help you sleep if you want."

The star looked at him, that lazy smile still on his face. "I do have trouble sleeping at night," he explained, and Crowley grinned.

"I'd be glad to mix you a good cup of hot chocolate, and my wife can give you a massage, if that sounds good."

The star frowned. "What's a massage?"

Crowley feigned shock, putting his hands on his hips. "Never had a...well, bless my soul," he cursed lightly, and smirked as he thought, _if only I had one to bless._ "Nothing like a good massage to send you off into the finest and deepest night's sleep, son. You just lie back there and I'll fetch my wife and the hot chocolate for you."

The star lay back, pulling the robe tighter around himself and resting his head on the pillow. The light was bright, not blinding but definitely there, and Crowley turned slightly as if to leave. "Why don't you shut your eyes? You'll sleep faster that way."

The star's eyes shut obediently, and Crowley silently reached down, hand groping for the blade. His hand closed over it, and grinning to himself, he raised it to shoulder height, adjusting his grip and narrowing his eyes at the content star. Just as he pulled back, however, there was a loud knocking at the door. Crowley cursed, panicked, and just before the star could open his eyes and see him, he Travelled downstairs.

Outside, Michael was banging his hand against the door, angry at how long it was taking. He shielded his eyes and looked back at Dean, who was holding the door open for his brothers. They could walk through walls, of course, like traditional ghosts, but they found Dean's magical obliviousness so amusing they were willing to go along with it.

"Maybe we should try the next inn," Dean shouted over the heavy rain. "Especially if this ruby you're looking for is as close as those runes say."

"I'll give it one more try," Michael shouted back, and turned to knock again just as the door was pulled open by a chubby woman in a long dress. Michael smiled in relief. "At last. We need a room, my good woman. Please help my friend take the horses to the stable," he gestured towards the carriage, knowing this human woman could only see Dean - ghosts were within Faerie sight spectrum.

The woman simply stared at him, but Michael pushed past her, walking into the inn. Shabby, he reflected, but it would do. While Dean and the woman were taking the horses in, Michael drew nearer to the fire at the side of the room, welcoming the warmth. He didn't notice Crowley, leant against the bar and gritting his teeth against the new blisters thanks to Travelling, and Crowley kept it that way, silently moving into the kitchen to pull a drink and hide his knife in his belt again. Then Crowley removed a small bottle from his pocket, and tipped the contents in.

While this was happening, Michael had seen Castiel come down from his room, confused as to what was happening and feeling less and less relaxed by the second. Michael looked at this young man, wrapped in a bathrobe, and jumped to conclusions.

"I'm accustomed to better service," he told the man, who stared at him in interest. "But you're awake now and that's what counts. Prepare your best room," he commanded, but suddenly there was another man right beside him, holding out a tray and smiling thinly.

"I'll thank you not to bother my guest, sir," this man said coldly. "I am the innkeeper here. Glass of wine?"

Sitting on the bar and hidden to everyone except Michael; Raphael, Gabriel, Uriel, Samandriel and Balthazar had seen the whole thing. They knew what Crowley was as well, having seen his true face when he moved towards them, and they all started hissing at Michael. "No, no!"

Michael hesitated, then said, "No." His brothers sighed in relief. "Until my brother is dead, I have vowed to drink only my own wine. But, I'm sure my friend in the stables could use a drop," he waved his hand dismissively, and Crowley, seething, walked away and dumped the tray on the girl, who was scraping her foot against the floor impatiently. As she left, the woman came back in, and Crowley pointed at the kitchen for her to leave.

"You best room, perhaps?" Michael called from the fireplace, and Crowley turned back, smiling kindly.

"Of course, sir."

As Crowley left, Michael turned to Castiel, who had moved closer to the fire again, but still standing on the other side of the couch to Michael. The prince inclined his head to the guest, who stared at him, uncomfortable. "I'm sorry. I presumed that..." Michael began, and when the young man nodded in understanding, he trailed off.

Castiel, highly anxious by this entire situation and unwilling to start a conversation with a complete stranger, began to walk away back to the staircase where the innkeeper had gone. However, as he turned, the five ghost princes on the bar saw the crystal on a chain resting against Castiel's chest, and they looked up at Michael immediately.

"He's got the stone!" they shouted together, and Michael looked straight at them, his eyes widening. Even Castiel stopped, his head inclining as he swore he heard someone say something. Michael jumped at this chance. "Travelling alone, are you?" he said quickly, and his brothers sighed.

"Twat," Balthazar muttered.

* * *

 Outside in the stables, Dean was just locking the last horse inside its stall when a girl approached him, holding out a tray with a cup on it. Dean, glad of a proper drink and stressed at not having found Castiel yet, took the glass gratefully and nodded at the girl.

"Thanks," he smiled at her, and subconsciously checked her out. She had large teeth maybe, but overall not bad. He raised the glass to her, smirking. "That's really kind of you. What's your name?"

The girl simply frowned at him, then whipped her head round, her hair slapping over her face as she turned from him. She lifted her head and made a sort of blowing noise, like she was trying to roll her r's and just failing, then walked away, leaving the stables quickly.

Dean's forehead wrinkled in discomfort, wondering what the hell had just happened. If most of his high school class proved anything, it was that he wasn't a bad flirter, not by a long shot, but that was easily the strangest rejection he'd ever had. Dean decided to brush it off, shrugging and raising the cup to his lips.

However, just as he got a smell of the wine, he had an overwhelming sense of wrong. It wasn't powerful, but it was certain, and he paused, sniffing again. The feeling was somewhere in his chest, like a flash of intuition or forewarning. _Maybe it's my magical Faerie powers,_ Dean thought sarcastically, and grinned to himself. When Michael had told him that in the carriage, he'd had no idea what to make of it. Sure, this universe having human fallen stars he could take, and from Dad's story he remembered rude black-eyed gypsies, but magic? Really?

Then he'd thought harder, and recalled something else from his father's story - how he'd said his mother had strange eyes that changed colour from hazel to blue, according to her emotions. It sounded just like Michael had described, and Dean had suddenly made sense of all the moments in his life when someone had looked at him funny, or mentioned his eye, or started to talk then trailed off, before saying, "I must be imagining it." He must have been doing it all his life, subconsciously, and it made Dean wonder just who his mother had really been. He was still pretty sure the princess story had been a pick-up line, albeit a good one. It was obviously where he got it from.

But the whole eye thing aside, he couldn't really have magic himself, could he? Michael had showed him a few tricks he could do, snapping his fingers to make Dean's jacket change colour, but Dean hadn't been able to do any of it. Now, as he looked down at the drink distastefully, he wondered whether these were his powers beginning to show. Deciding there was no harm in checking, Dean thought, _this one's on you, Mom,_ and tipped the glass over, letting the wine spill onto the ground.

As it hit the straw, steam started rising, and Dean dropped the cup in surprise. All of it fell out, and the straw melted away rapidly, the liquid burning through it like fire. Dean, wide-eyed, whispered, "Crap." then ran for the door. He needed to get to Michael.

* * *

 As Castiel turned to Michael, wondering how to respond to the strange question - "No, a man called Dean is taking me to see his love because he promised her a fallen star, which I am, by the way" - he saw Michael's eyes flicker to his chest, where the necklace still rested. Castiel had felt uncomfortable taking it off and leaving it with his clothes, and now he worried about what the man wanted with it.

"That stone you're wearing..." the man murmured, and moved towards Castiel, holding out a hand. "Let me see it."

Castiel took a step back. "I don't know..."

Michael took another step, his eyes flaring turquoise, and Castiel thought with surprise, _Faerie!_ "You have no idea what you're meddling with," Michael said threateningly, and he took another step. "I am Michael, the first born of Stormhold, and I demand you bring it to me!"

Castiel's back bumped against the bar, unaware that he was actually standing in Samandriel's legs. Michael was advancing on him, and Castiel clutched his hand around the necklace, unsure of what to do. Did the Lord of Stormhold want his sons to have it or not?

"Give me the stone, boy!" Michael shouted, his voice like thunder, and just as he reached out to grab Castiel, everything began to happen very fast.

First, Dean burst through the door, shouting, "Prince Michael! Don't touch anything they give you!" Castiel had no idea how or why Dean had got there, but he was relieved that his face broke into a smile despite his current danger. Then suddenly, Michael wasn't near him anymore, and Castiel's smile slid off his face as he turned to see the innkeeper standing on the stairs, holding his hand out. Across the room from him, Michael was pressed against the wall above the fire by invisible forces, body splayed and face filled with terror.

The innkeeper approached Michael, holding him up with one hand and pointing a long glittering knife at him. Anthony stopped, and narrowed his eyes at Michael. "I always hated the royalty," he spat, then slashed his blade smoothly across Michael's throat. Michael stopped gasping, and as he slumped the innkeeper pulled his hand back, letting him fall in front of the fire.

Only Dean could see a new ghost materialise next to the others, a depressed Michael with blood spilling from the wound, but Dean was distracted by who he saw in front of the ghosts.

"Castiel!" he shouted, and they ran towards each other. Dean grabbed the star's arms, feeling far too happy at having found him. "Are you alright?"

Just as Castiel was about to answer, he saw Anthony coming towards them, and Dean began to pull him towards the door. As they started running, however, a huge green fire flared up in front of them, cutting off the exit. The fire curled round them, and as they turned to see the innkeeper advancing, it grew into huge flickering walls.

The innkeeper didn't look much like an innkeeper anymore, and as he swished the blade around to hold it above his head, he smirked, " Hello, boys. How do you like my celestial blade? One of these bad boys could kill a star stone dead, unlike most things. Unfourtunately, the burning golden heart of a star at peace is so much better than your frightened little heart. Still," he said, and his eyes started to burn red, "better than no heart at all."

Castiel felt his heart thudding loudly, all too suddenly aware of its existence, as he knew who the innkeeper was. "Crowley," he whispered, and Dean, who had moved to stand in front of Castiel to shield him from the Original Daemon, looked back at him to see the fear in Castiel's eyes. Dean understood immediately, and pulled out a handgun from his bag to point it at Crowley.

"Don't you dare come any closer to us, you red-eyed freak, or I'll shoot," Dean threatened, and Crowley laughed.

"You think guns will hurt me, boy?" Crowley flicked his free hand, and the handgun flew out into the fire. Then Crowley's fingers tightened, and Dean clutched at his throat, his eyes popping as Crowley strangled him from six feet away.

Castiel recognised he had to do something, anything to save Dean, but he didn't know what he could do. He had no idea how to fight, and his small star power paled in comparison to Crowley's, one of the three oldest Daemon in existence. We need to leave quickly, Castiel thought desperately as he saw Dean's face turning red, _I wish I was home._

That thought blossomed into an idea for Castiel, and suddenly he knew what he could do. He grabbed Dean's bag, searching through it until he found what he was looking for: a black wax stub. Then, Castiel reached out his hand and flicked two fingers until the gun Dean had just been holding sped into it. He swung it around and in a desperate attempt to understand the mechanics with seconds to spare, tightened his finger around the trigger.

The gun blasted a bullet at Crowley, Castiel's terrible aim hitting him in the stomach but knocking him back a few steps and mostly importantly, releasing his hold on Dean. Castiel dropped the gun on the recoil, shocked by its power, and reached for Dean as he fell to the floor, gasping. His hand closed over Dean's left shoulder, and Castiel pulled him close.

"Dean, think of home," his whispered in the man's ear, and then he plunged his hand with the Babylon candle into the fire, lighting it and taking the two of them away, the sounds of the inn burning and Crowley's roars of anger echoing in their ears.


	9. Connection

Miles and miles up in the sky, in the midst of the storm, a ball of bright candlelight hit a bank of storm clouds and broke apart, revealing one tall half-Faerie boy and one shorter fallen star in a bathrobe clinging to each other for dear life.

Castiel lifted his head from where he'd buried it in Dean's neck, one hand still gripping Dean's shoulder and the other wrapped across the man's back. Dean looked down at Castiel, and grinned at him momentarily, thanking God they'd managed to get out. Castiel smiled back, and there was a pause as Dean realised how awkwardly close he was holding the star, arms locked around his waist. Dean went to take a step back, feeling a blush on his cheeks, but Castiel's arms suddenly strengthened, immovable.

"Hey, what are you-" Dean started, but was cut off by thunder booming all around him. Dean jumped, terrified, and looked around to realise just where they were. "What the- what the hell happened? What did you do?"

"I thought of home," Castiel said simply, still refusing to let Dean go. "I told you to, and so did I..." Castiel trailed off as flashes of lightning lit up the clouds around them, and he flinched. "I don't understand how we got here, however. This certainly isn't home to me."

"You...don't you see what happened?" Dean said angrily, feeling the rain soak into his hair and clothes. "You told me to think of my home, over the wall, and then you thought of yours, and now we're somewhere between the two! Why didn't you just tell me what you meant?"

"An Original Daemon was strangling you, Dean, there was hardly time for more specific instructions," Castiel frowned at him, ignoring the thunder and lightning and rain around them.

"Well, now what the hell are we going to do? And why won't you let go of me?" Dean spat at him, struggling out of the star's iron grip. "My shoulder hurts!"

Castiel relented his hold on Dean's shoulder slowly, and his other arm loosened, but he stayed holding on. Dean rolled his shoulder gratefully, and a flash of pain shot across it, making him hiss. He looked at the shoulder and blinked, unbelieving. "Son of a..."

Castiel looked as well, and they both saw the way Dean's jacket and shirt had been completely burned through across the shoulder, hanging on by a thread, and an angry red print was on his skin, a perfect replica of Castiel's hand. Castiel glanced up at Dean's wet face, who was looking at him with growing anger and fear, and glanced away at the cloud bank below their feet, ashamed.

"I'm sorry. I must have panicked, and with my power-"

"Oh, shut up," Dean cut him off, and suddenly pulled away from him. Castiel's eyes widened, but he didn't have time to hold the man back, despite his strength and as Dean stepped away from him, dropping his arms, Castiel cried out. "Dean, stop!"

"You know, this is just great!" Dean threw his hands in the air, stalking across the cloud bank angrily, avoiding looking down purposefully (he was starting to feel slightly sick). "We've used up the Babylon candle, some crazy mother is trying to cut your heart out and now, I have your handprint friggin' burned into my shoulder!" Dean turned to see Castiel staring at him, gaping. "What?!"

"Dean, we're on a cloud," Castiel said, expression shocked.

"So?"

"We're on a cloud, and I'm a star with celestial power. You are a completely non-magical human, so...how are you standing up?"

Dean's eyes widened, and he glanced down at his feet automatically. Just as he did, a large foghorn sounded out of nowhere, and both Dean and Castiel looked up to see a large cloud split suddenly with a long spear. The spear widened, and became connected to a hull, blackened and beaten to almost wreckage, and then there were ropes and portholes and a tall mast with black sails straining against the howling winds, all reaching back to curve round in an equally bruised stern. There was literally a ship sailing out of the storm; Dean gaped, deciding everything he'd seen in this world so far paled to normality next to this. The ship swung around and from the side facing them, two rope ladders dropped down and hung there, an obvious invitation.

Castiel wasted no time in rushing to one ladder and beginning to climb, tucking the bathrobe around his legs to keep an ounce of privacy. Dean was slower, all to aware of how he was walking on a cloud, for God's sake, and also suspicious of the ship itself. His fears were justified as he swung his leg over the side and his jacket was grabbed by someone, who pulled him down and immediately pressed a double barrel against his neck. Dean stiffened, resisting the urge to fight, and narrowed his eyes angrily at his captor - a girl with bright red hair and an eyepatch, machine gun rounds looped across her shoulder and waist. He was pushed with his back against the ship's side, and Castiel was next to him, held by a dark-haired boy with a long knife. The rest of the crew standing around, all with some sort of weapon, all glaring at them.

Dean looked up to see a man approaching, wearing a long heavy coat and oddly enough, a baseball cap. The man studied them, his hands stuck in the pockets of his thick cotton pants, and he nodded at the girl holding down Dean.

"Look, Captain Singer!" the girl grinned, flicking her wet hair over her shoulder. "Caught ourselves a nice little bonus."

The boy twisted his knife slightly, letting it press lightly into Castiel's neck, who stiffened and eyed the knife. "A couple of Lightning Marshals," he smiled.

Captain Singer made a disbelieving noise. "Don't look much like Lightning Marshals to me, Harry."

Harry's smile lessened slightly. "Why else would anyone be up here in a storm?"

The captain's eyebrows knitted tighter, and he took another step forward, closer. " _'Why else would anyone be up here in a storm?'_ " he mimicked. "Well, let's think. Maybe, for the same godforsaken reason we are, idjits!" he thundered, and the crew winced.

Captain Singer knelt down and pushed the girl's gun away, taking Dean's chin painfully in his fingers and twisting his face to the side. "Who are you two?" he asked, threatening. Dean concentrated as hard as he could on keeping the Faerie blue out of his right eye, and sneered at the man.

"Bite me."

The captain stood up, affronted, and looked at his crew. "Did you hear the boy's language? I think that deserves a night in the brig, to see if that'll loosen their tongues!"

The crew cheered, and Captain Singer smirked at the boys. "Get them in the brig!" he hollered, and then turned away, marching off back to his quarters, Dean presumed. An older Asian woman stepped up to take his place, raising a heavy gun in the air and banging her boot down.

"You heard the man!" she shouted, her voice surprisingly loud. "Let's go! Charlie, Harry, get them in the brig and the rest of you, back to work!" From the way the crew obeyed her, Dean assumed she was first mate, and as the girl Charlie pulled him up and began to push towards the ship's hull, he heard her shout again, "We've got lightning to catch! Come on!"

The brig was cold, and wet, and practically empty apart from a few barrels around the edges which Dean sincerely hoped wasn't gunpowder or something equally as dangerous. Charlie and Harry pushed them down, and Harry removed a length of rope from his belt. He roughly tied first Dean's hands together, then Castiel's, then put a few loops around the both of them so they couldn't move apart. Dean glared at him the whole time, and the boy looked away, uncomfortable.

"See you in the morning, bitches," Charlie grinned, and they both left, slamming the door and locking it behind them.

Dean and Castiel sat in silence for a moment, and Dean could feel the star's spine digging into his own through jacket and shirt and towelling robe. Dean wasn't sure if he was still pissed at Castiel, even though it was for a stupid reason. But, in any case, he wasn't looking forward to sitting in two inches of freezing water back-to-back with someone who wouldn't talk to him, so he was just thinking of something to say when Castiel asked, "They're going to kill us, aren't they?"

Dean sighed. "I don't know." Another moment of silence, then Dean laughed softly. "You know, it's funny. I used to watch...I used to watch people having adventures, and I envied them. Everyone thought I was happy in Wall, and I made it seem like I was, but really...that place sucked, dude. I was ready to get out. You ever heard the expression, 'be careful what you wish for'?" Dean looked down at his feet, wincing slightly as the rope cut into his wrist.

"I don't understand," Castiel said quietly. "Are you saying you'd rather not have come here? That I should have had my heart cut out, that...it would serve me right?" Castiel's voice cracked at the last word, and Dean lifted his head. Castiel was hurt, hurt by something he'd said, and Dean was feeling a wave of pain himself because of it.

"No, I didn't mean it like that, Cas," Dean covered up, and the nickname slipped out without warning. Dean widened his eyes, embarassed, as Castiel murmured, "Cas?"

"Sorry," Dean muttered back.

"No, on the contrary...I like it," Castiel said, almost hesitantly, and then his fingers were looping through Dean's own between their backs, smooth and unmarked against Dean's worn ones. He locked their hands lightly, squeezed then slipped them out quickly, like he was embarassed himself. Dean resisted the urge to laugh at the star, so inhuman yet so human, at the same time.

There was a pause, then Dean began to explain. "Look, I respect you dreaming, man. You must think there's nothing impossible in this world, having seen it all happen at least once. But a shop boy like me, I could never have imagined an adventure this big, let alone wished for it. Hell, I just thought I'd find some lump of celestial rock and that would be it, game over."

"And you got me," Castiel chuckled, leaning his head back so it rested lightly against Dean's. "If there's one thing I've learnt in all my years watching Earth, it's that people aren't what they seem. There have been shop boys...and then there have been boys who have just worked in shops for the time being. And trust me, Dean, you are no shop boy. In fact, I'm beginning to think you're more than human."

Dean licked his lips, then replied, "I know."

Castiel straightened behind him. "What?"

"When I rode with Michael, he told me...he told me I was Faerie. Half-Faerie, from my mother. I mean, Cas, I didn't even know, but apparently my eye changes colour and I could walk on clouds and when we were at the inn I could tell there was poison in the drinks, I just knew, and-"

"Dean, how could you not know your mother was Faerie?" Castiel sounded vaguely amused, but mostly surprised.

"I never met her," Dean said, quietly. "My dad...he crossed the wall when he was twenty-something, and found her, and...well, you know how it all works. She was imprisoned by a Daemon, she said, and couldn't keep me, so I grew up over there. She was the one who left me the Babylon candle."

"Amazing," Castiel whispered. "So you really are special."

"Not really," Dean muttered, awkward. "I'm just me. You, you're a fallen star, Cas. Can't get much more special than that."

"But there are millions of my kind, up in the sky."

"Maybe so, but none of them saved my life," Dean countered, and if had been facing Castiel he would have seen the way the star's eyes widened, as he was given a reason for being special for the first time in his existence. Instead, all Dean could do was twist his head so he could just see the side of Castiel's face, and the corner of one of his ridiculously blue eyes. "Thanks, Cas."

* * *

 It was midnight, the rain still pouring and the wind still blowing and the storm still raging on several miles away, and Lucifer was looking down at his older brother's dead body.

Michael was lying spread-eagled in the wreckage of a still-smoking building, his throat slashed and the blood drying on his clothes. Even though Lucifer wished he could have delivered the killing blow, he was far too elated to care.

"The last brother is dead," he whispered quietly, and looked up at the few servants assembled around him. "You know what this means. I'm king," he said, quietly as first, then held out his arms to the servants, grinning widely with blue dancing in his eyes. "I'm king!"

The servants looked at each other, then slowly one got down on his knees before Lucifer, who smiled at him serenely. Just as the others were about to follow, however, a voice called out, "Lucy, don't get carried away. You're not king just yet."

Lucifer looked around, surprised, to see his six ghostly brothers standing a few yards away, arms crossed against their chests (except for Balthazar, who was kind of busy with his head) and watching him calmly. Gabriel, the one who had spoken, popped his gum and grinned stickily.

"What do you mean, I'm not king?" he spat at them, aware he looked crazy to his human servants but too above them to care.

"You still need the stone," Uriel rumbled.

"Damn!" Lucifer cursed loudly, narrowing his eyes at the dead princes. "But I'm the only one left."

"Dad made the rules, not us," Raphael shrugged, the bone from his broken arm sticking into Michael, who pushed him back.

"No-one will recognise you as king if you don't get it."

"Shut up, Samandriel," they all said automatically.

"Michael, where did you hide the ruby?" Lucifer asked suspiciously, turning to his most hated brother.

"I didn't have it," Michael sighed. "But there was a man...he was young, and was in a bathrobe, but he was wearing it. He was wearing the ruby, and I tried to get it from him...if only I'd been quicker!"

"Yes, well, you're dead now, Mikey, so just enjoy it while you can," Balthazar deadpanned back at the first-born.

"Why did he have the ruby?" Lucifer wondered, frowning slightly.

"It was a trap, obviously," Gabriel sighed, and all the brothers looked at him. "I'm sorry, was I the only person paying attention after Michael bit the dust? That innkeeper who killed him? Crowley."

"The Original Daemon?" Lucifer stared, and there was a flash of approval in his expression.

"Of course you would know. One of them, yes," Gabriel rolled his eyes. "He's gone now. Took Michael's carriage, annoyingly."

"But why did Crowley want the stone?" Raphael asked, confused.

"He didn't. He wanted the man's heart," Gabriel explained. "He said the man was a star."

"A fallen star?" Lucifer whispered, and the princes were momentarily silenced.

"Do you have any idea what the heart of a fallen star does to Faerie?" Uriel looked at his youngest brother, who nodded slowly.

"Everlasting life," he murmured. "King...forever!"

"Now I'm glad I'm dead," Balthazar muttered.

"I'm not," Michael spat at him. "That could have been me!"

"It could have been any of us."

"Shut up, Samandriel!"

"What happened to the star?" Lucifer demanded from Gabriel, who held his hands up in mock innocence.

"They had a Babylon candle, little bro! They could be anywhere!"

"I'll have to consult the runes," Lucifer murmured, and turned to his company, who were all staring straight at him, looking worried and terrified, simultaneously. Lucifer sighed and waved a hand at them. "You're human and these is Faerie matters here, don't expect to understand it. The important thing is, we must search for the ruby, and the star who wears it." The servants nodded slowly, but no-one moved for a few seconds.

"What are you doing?" Lucifer commanded. "Get ready to leave!" The servants all hurried into action, unwilling to end up like the soothsayer yesterday.

Behind him, Raphael said, "Just can't get the service these days," and Balthazar replied, "Oh shut up, Raffy, we all know you got with more kitchen maids than fired them."

"Oh, burn," Uriel hissed, and Gabriel popped his gum again.

* * *

 Crowley, riding through the early morning darkness in the coach he had stolen from Michael and resisting the urge to scratch at the blisters burning at the side of his neck, was seething.

"Ask again," he spat at the mirror and Lilith, hundreds of miles away in another dimension and right in front of him, sighed and rippled a hand over the silver goblet filled with blood.

"The answer is still the same," Lilith said quietly. "He is airborne."

"How is that possible?!" Crowley shouted, slamming a hand down on the bench beside him angrily.

"I don't know," Lilith said, her exterior still calm. However, the whites of her eyes were flickering like fire across the edges of her irises.

"Well, he can't remain so forever, brother," Azazel reasoned, feeling the tension coming off in waves from Lilith.

"Tell me as soon as he touches ground," Crowley said to his sister, crossing his arms. When Lilith didn't reply, he repeated, "Immediately! Do you understand?"

"Watch your language, Crowley!" Lilith suddenly shrieked, stepping as close as she could to the mirror and raising a hand as if to smash it. The blank white of her eyes writhed with anger and humiliation. "It is you, and not us who have lost him! Lost him and burned up most of your power, I can see it on your vessel! Even if you catch him, how are you supposed to carry out the deed?" Lilith lowered her hand slowly, breathing hard and slightly deflated but still evidently furious. Azazel had taken a step back, and even Crowley was wincing slightly. "Maybe...maybe you should return now and let one of us take your place."

Crowley sat up properly, still wary of his sister but refusing to give up the quest. "Don't be ridiculous. Look, I'll just bring him to the warehouse and we can deal with him there. Make sure everything is ready for our arrival."

Lilith narrowed her now normal eyes, but nodded slowly and returned back to the goblet. As Crowley touched the glass to end the conversation, she was leaning over it and chanting again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I like angelic brother feelings more than I'd like to admit. And if you thought I couldn't get a song for this chapter, see Airship Pirate by Abney Park. Yes, it exists. Thanks for reading!


	10. Alliance

"Tell me about Lisa," Castiel said suddenly, and Dean's head jerked up from where it had been leaning against his chest while he half-slept. He rolled his neck painfully, working out the cramp, then realised Cas had actually said something to him.

"What?"

"Anything," Cas replied, misunderstanding. "I would like to know a little about her before I arrive. I don't want to come off as rude the first time I meet somebody."

Dean chuckled slightly, remembering his first encounter with the star. "Well...she's got brown hair, and brown eyes, and she's kind of tanned and shorter than me and very, very beautiful. I've known her for four years, and we were in the same class in high school."

"But what is she like?" Cas pressed.

"Um...she makes jokes, and...she's real nice to my younger sister, and..." Dean trailed off. It was hard to find words to describe Lisa's personality that weren't 'she feels sorry for me a lot and has a boyfriend who's a dick'.

"Interesting," Cas murmured, like he actually thought so. Dean shifted, uncomfortable, as the star continued, "because the little I know about love, it's unconditional. It's not something that can be bought."

"Hang on, dude, this isn't about me buying her love!" Dean frowned, affronted. "Taking you to her, this was so I could prove how I felt."

"Oh, I see," Cas replied like he didn't, not at all. "So what is she doing to prove how she feels about you?"

"Well..." Dean started, and the stopped. Because she wasn't doing anything, Lisa. In fact, she was probably going through bridal catalogues right now and wondering which shade suited her best, lemon or peach? _But that's Lisa, that was just how she is,_ Dean decided. _Right?_ "Look, you'll understand when you meet her, Cas. That is, if we don't get murdered by sky pirates first."

"Murdered by pirates. Heart torn out and eaten. Meeting Lisa," the star listed off. "I can't decide which sounds more fun." He chuckled, that genuine, amused sound that made Dean smile subconsciously.

"Cas, I think you just made a joke," Dean chuckled.

"Of course," the star sounded offended. "I do have a sense of humour, Dean."

And that was what made Dean burst into laughter himself.

* * *

 "Crowley! Crowley!"

"Mmmffff-what?! I was asleep! There is time in this world, you know!"

"We located the sky vessel, brother."

"Wonderful. Talk to me."

"It's headed north for the port town on Mount Moondoor."

"And brother? You are no longer the only one seeking the star."

"What? Who else is: a Daemon, a witch, a human? Azazel, who is it?"

"A prince - he's Faerie, and he's catching you up. So get a move on!"

* * *

 Dean and Castiel had fallen in an amiable silence again for while when there was the sound of the door unlocking, and it opened to let in a flood of bright dawn light. They squinted through, trying to see who it was, but the shadow stepped through the door and slammed it shut before their eyes adjusted.

It was Captain Singer, having changed his black coat to a dark green one, just as trashed. His heavy boots scuffed against the floor and splashed a little water that hadn't evaporated during the night against Dean, as he circled them.

"So, boys, we can do this the easy way or the hard way," the captain declared, hand brushing over a pistol in a holster on his waist to make a point. "Chances are, you'll like the easy way better. It involves you telling me who you are and why you're here, without anybody getting hurt."

There was a moment of silence, as Dean contemplated, then he said, glaring, "My name is Dean Winchester. This is my brother, Castiel."

"Brother?" Singer laughed, stopping and slinging his hands into his pockets. He faced the two young men, eyes darting between them. "You couldn't look more different than a princess and a Boy Scout! No, I'm getting a more...'alternative lifestyle' feel from you boys, am I right?"

Dean blushed, hard, and made several strangled sounds that were an attempt at _'hell no, you crazy son of a bitch'_ , but became lost along the way. Castiel just blinked, unsure what the man was insinuating.

"Don't worry, kid, no-one's going to give you trouble for it on this ship," Captain Singer said conversationally, starting to walk again. "As it happens, we've got one just like you - that girl Charlie you met. Well, I say met..." the captain raised an eyebrow at Dean, who had started breathing properly again and was now struggling against his bonds.

"Don't you try, boy, or I'll start snapping his fingers one by one like twigs." Singer pointed at Castiel, who glared at the captain, since he'd become quite attached to his fingers after two days.

"If you dare touch him..." Dean spat, but stopped struggling.

Singer hunched down, resting his arms on his knee and narrowing his eyes at Dean under that strange baseball cap. "You may think you're showing a little spirit in front of your boyfriend, Dean Winchester, but if you talk back to me again, I'll feed your tongue to the dogs. Understand?"

Dean was breathing deeply in an effort to hold himself back, and after a moment he calmed down and said quietly, "Sir?"

"That's better," Singer smiled, and stood up, pacing around them again. "Now, let's see. A hanging is always good for morale. Maybe we could tie you to the mast and let the crew practice their shooting again. Or maybe I'll just tip you over the side and be done with it!"

It's a long way down," Castiel commented, feeling like he needed to say something but not sure what was appropriate. Now seemed as good a time as any.

"Plenty of time to reminisce about your pitifully short lives," the captain agreed, and Castiel frowned. He couldn't tell whether that was good or not.

Dean, not particularly eager to been thrown over the side of the ship and annoyed at Castiel for urging the captain on, cut in. "Look, Captain Singer, we're just trying to get home. We come from Wall, and-"

"What did you say?" the captain's face suddenly changed from threatening to curiously surprised, and he took a step closer to Dean.

Outside, the crew were gathered round the door of the brig, trying to hear what Captain Bobby Singer was saying to the two intruders despite the first mate Linda Tran's attempts to drag them back to their posts. They heard the boy shout, "I said, we were trying to get home to Wall!" and the captain thundered back, "That's one lie to many, son!"

"Wall?" Kevin Tran, cabin boy and son of the first mate, asked loudly, skeptical.

"Shut up," the sailing master Ash hissed at him. There was talking inside the brig, too muffled for them to hear, and after a moment the cook Garth Fitzgerald IV murmured, "What's he saying?"

"Thought you could just wander onto my patch, did you?!" Captain Singer roared suddenly, and the crew jumped and looked at each other.

"Is he...?" Charlie Bradbury, weapons keeper, started.

"He is," boatswain Jody Mills muttered back grinning, her hand resting lightly against the door.

"And live to tell the tale?!" Singer again.

"Everyone move!" Jody hissed, throwing out her hand to push them all back, just as the door to the brig slammed open and Captain Singer marched out, dragging one of the prisoners by his ripped jacket. The prisoner, which Charlie recognised as the one she had caught, was struggling, having broken free of his bonds, and cursing loudly at the captain.

"Big mistake, Mr Winchester! And the last one you'll ever make!" Singer was shouting back at the boy, pulling him closer to the edge of the ship while the crew looked on, cheering. The other prisoner, the one wrapped in a bathrobe, ran out of the brig, and grabbed onto the captain.

"Let go of him, you monster!" he threatened, trying to drag the captain back. He was apparently stronger than he looked, because the captain actually staggered a few steps, loosening his grip on the other prisoner. However, the master carpenter Victor Henrikssen and one of the pirates, Bela Talbot, moved forward to grab the shorter man and pulled him back successfully, although by the look on their faces it was difficult.

The captain continued on with the still-shouting boy, pressing his back against the side of the ship and a hand against his throat to stop him talking.

"One last chance, you little bastard, or I'll throw you over," the captain hissed.

"Screw you," the boy spat back, and then Singer did it. In one smooth movement, he pushed so the boy flipped over the edge and fell head-first over the side, flailing.

Back on the ship, the man in Victor and Bela's hands slumped, staring at where the blond prisoner had disappeared. The crew was silent for a moment, then rushed as one to the side and shouted in elation as they saw a body tumbling through the thick cloud bank below them. Captain Singer walked with satisfaction over to where Castiel was still standing, his blue eyes burning with anger and glaring daggers at him.

"You murderer," he growled, and raised a hand to do something, he didn't know what, but something to this man who had just thrown Dean over the side like he was-like he was-

But Singer just grabbed his arm tightly, and pulled him towards the stern. His crew turned to see the captain standing by the door to his quarters, holding the other prisoner, who looked furious.

"Now, I'm taking this little pansy to my cabin, and mark my words, anyone who disturbs me in the next few hours will get the same treatment," Singer commanded, looking at his men and women.

There was a pause, then Harry Spengler, the one who had caught Castiel, said, "What? You'll..." He trailed off, pointing at Singer and the prisoner.

The captain stared at him, frowning, then shook his head in disbelief. "No! No, you idjit, I'll sling you over the side as well!"

"Ah. Oh," Harry realised, and the rest of the crew rolled their eyes.

"Come on," Linda put her hands on her hips and faced the pirates, her voice carrying over them all easily. "Captain's busy, and so should you be. To your places!"

As the men and women hurried to their jobs, Singer pulled the fuming Castiel through his door and slammed it. Castiel was watching the man so determinedly and planning something to hurt him very, very badly so strongly that he didn't realise that Singer had loosened his grip, and it wasn't until the captain said, in a voice very different and much kinder than the one he had before, "Calm down, son," that Castiel looked up at the cabin and more specifically, the tall, freckled man sitting with his feet propped up on the desk and grinning.

"So, I thought that went well, don't you, Cas?" Dean smirked.

Castiel stared. And continued staring. As Singer grunted, "Feet off the table, boy," and as Dean swung his legs down dramatically and practically bounced over to Cas, the star still stared at him, confused and shocked and happy and annoyed, all at the same time.

"You actually managed it," Cas said quietly, watching Dean in wonder. "When you went over, I really thought you had..." he trailed off, unwilling to say it, and Dean ran a hand though his hair in embarrassment.

"It wasn't that hard, just, you know...had to grab the porthole..." he muttered, bashful, and glanced at Cas awkwardly. The star's brow was knitted again, like it always seemed to be, but a smile was tugging at the edge of his mouth as he looked at Dean, his blue eyes affectionate. Dean found himself smiling back, just slightly, and after a few silent moments there was a loud cough.

Dean blinked, and licked his dry lips quickly before looking away from Cas's gaze and back at Captain Singer, who was standing with two beers in his hands and giving them a strange look. Dean pulled one of the beers from him and popped it open using a bottle opener lying on the desk, and took a drink, grateful.

Singer, having removed his coat to reveal a dark brown shirt, sat down at his desk and popped the drink himself. "Now, tell me what's happened on Earth. I want to hear everything, Dean."

"Wait," Cas stepped forward, aware he didn't have a drink and wondering why. "Is your crew really going to fall for that?"

"Yeah, and where the hell did you get a mannequin anyway, Bobby?" Dean frowned, leaning against the desk.

"Bobby?" Castiel asked.

"Yeah, but don't get too comfortable, alright?" Bobby muttered, then louder, "It works every time. I have a towering reputation among those fine pirates without having ever had to spill a drop of innocent blood, the likes of you two. Then again, we get ambushed by a Daemon or a witch, and..." Bobby raised an eyebrow, and Cas shivered.

Dean paused, then made a face and took another swig. "Right," he said, swallowing. "But I still don't understand how they won't recognise me."

"Dean, son, once I get you cleaned up good and proper, your own mother wouldn't recognise you," Bobby grinned, and stood up to walk over to double doors. "Now, we don't have much time. In two hours we'll make port, so first and foremost..." Bobby opened the doors, and beckoned Dean and Cas closer. "We'd better change those dreary clothes."

Inside, was easily the most impressive walk-in closet Dean had ever seen. There were shelves filled with books on his left, at least four feet long, and then next to it were three racks of clothes, all bundled together into their different types. On his right, were more shelves, a few with accessories and extras, but also adorning a collection of assorted boxes and amulets and talismans and tablets with strange writing and many other things besides. And behind that...more clothes. At the end, a huge mirror reflected Dean and Cas's bewildered faces back at them, and Bobby was shuffling through one of the rack's decidedly.

"Dean, get your ass over here," the captain called, pulling out a few items and hanging them over his arm. Dean hurried, while Cas looked at the shelves of memorabilia from far away places, his hand trailing over one of the tablets.

"Enochian..." he murmured, and started reading about a long-forgotten battle while Bobby heaped the clothes into Dean's arms.

"Here. A couple of these were mine when I was younger, but I hate to throw anything anyway, and they'll suit you, trust me. You can take them into the office and we'll get you some weapons as well, meanwhile...Castiel?"

Cas lifted his head quickly, having become immersed in the tablet. "Sorry," he apologised.

Bobby walked over and looked down at the square of marble. "You can read that?" he looked as Cas, curious. When the star nodded, Bobby narrowed his eyes fractionally. "Interesting."

"Why did you call me?" Cas asked, turning to the captain.

"Right," Bobby shook his head slightly and looked at Dean. "You, boy, get out there and start dressing. Cas, I have some great choices back here. Take your pick."

Dean started protesting that he hadn't got to choose his clothes, but Bobby hustled him out and guided Cas to the racks.

"I'm fine, captain, really," Castiel said, knowing full well he had no idea where to even start with fashion.

Bobby gave him a look. "Kid, you're wearing a bathrobe."

Cas looked down at himself and stopped, realising he probably should change. "Well...I liked what I was wearing before, to tell the truth," he admitted.

"What was that?" Bobby asked. Cas smiled, and began to point it out.

"I had a shirt, white and plain, and the pants were black..."

Once Bobby had found his outfit, he left the star to get dressed and walked back into the office, closing the door slightly behind him for privacy. Dean was just doing up the buttons on his waistcoat and admiring himself in the square mirror above the captain's dresser. Bobby had been right - despite all odds, the ensemble suited him: a white dress shirt, dark brown cotton pants, knee-high leather boots and a lighter tan waistcoat with brass buttons. Dean pulled on the last item, a long black coat similar to Bobby's but much newer, and on a second thought, removed his mother's snowdrop from his trashed jacket and tucked it into the coat's collar. Then he grinned, and turned to see the captain holding out a belt."Weapons?"

Dean did up the belt and accepted the dagger from Bobby to tuck into his boot, lamented the loss of his handgun in the inn fire then begrudgingly chose a similar one from the large selection hung up on the wall of Bobby's office, as well as a sawn-off shotgun. Bobby was just demonstrating how to load it to Dean when the doors of the closet opened and Castiel walked out, brushing his hands on his coat and smiling. "Better?"

He was wearing the same clothes as he had when Dean had found him, the tan coat and shirt and tie and pants, but it was all...cleaner, somehow, and suffice to say even in the most classiest of trenchcoats, Cas still looked a little too small for it. Dean's hand holding the shotgun slackened as he studied the star, who tipped his head on one side and his frown deepened slightly. Dean looked up at him, raised his eyebrows and nodded, unsure why he was suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious but determined to try and brush past the moment.

"Here, Cas, let me help you with that," he said, laying the sawn-off shotgun down on the desk and walking over to start readjusting Cas's tie. The star let him, watching the concentration on Dean's face and wondering why he was so stressed all of a sudden. Bobby, meanwhile, just flicked his gaze between the two of them for a few moments, contemplating, then rolled his eyes and turned to open another beer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did enjoy doing a really long piece of Dean and Castiel for now - and of course, it's always good to see Bobby. Thanks for reading!


	11. Wayward

"Now, Earth," Bobby insisted, pouring himself a glass of whiskey and shaking his head at Dean, who had been eyeing it hopefully, "I want to hear everything."

"I take it you're not from Earth," Castiel stated. He was inspecting a blade he had chosen from Bobby's collection: it was incredibly similar to the one Crowley had been wielding back in the inn, and as soon as he had picked it up he had felt its power. Now, he was practising a few thrusts and jabs, liking the blade's weight and supple strength.

"No, no, sadly," Bobby sighed. "But when I was a kid, I got interested in the folklore. 'Course, people would say it was all just stories, but I loved to believe they were true. When I was in Campbell, I would sneak away and look over the wall, hoping someday I could cross it myself."

"Really?" Dean asked, sounding amused. He was styling his usually unkempt duck's tail into a smoother, side-swept look using wax in the captain's closet, and he looked away from the mirror for a moment. "So you were here, looking over there, and..." he trailed off as Bobby and Cas frowned at him.

"Yeah, I was," Bobby said slowly, unsure of the boy's point. Dean licked his lips and decided not to say what he had been thinking.

"Nothing. Hair?"

"Hair," Bobby grunted his approval, and Cas nodded. "Can I go on now?" Dean sat down and waved a hand, indicating an affirmative. "Good. I did my best to fit in, obviously. Forged a decent reputation as a cold-blooded killer and pillager, you know the like. My father was a captain and when he died, I promised I'd keep the old girl flying, and worked around my dream to explore by collecting everything you see around you." He gestured to his quarters, then paused and put his glass on the table before leaning forward and resting his arms on the desk. "I'm a man of my own creation, boys. The whole Captain Singer persona, it's still me, most of time, but sometimes...those pirates out there, they want death and toture and a wild life in the skies. I want to give them fairness and loyalty, but it's hard. However, if I can keep them happy, then I don't mind. They're the closest to a family I've got, you know?"

Bobby took another drink, tapping his fingers on the pistol resting on the table and watching Dean and Cas, who were absorbing the information in their own way. While Cas nodded slowly, trying his best to seem sympathetic even though he had had no experience of the hardships Bobby talked about, Dean frowned and sat forward with his elbows on his knees.

"But I don't get it, Bobby. Surely it would make you happier to just...be yourself. Why fight to be accepted by people you don't actually want to be like?"

"Yes," Cas said suddenly behind him. "Why would anyone do that to himself?"

Dean turned, grateful of the star's help. "Exactly," he agreed, smiling, but his expression changed when he saw Cas looking not at Bobby but at him, his jaw tight for some reason and a strange look in his eyes. Dean, confused, opened his mouth to ask why the star was looking like that when a shout sounded from outside.

"Port ahoy! Ready the lightning barrels!"

* * *

"I don't know, sunshine, it doesn't look that fresh to me," Frank Devereaux eyed the barrels haughtily, and Bobby sighed, crossing his arms. Frank could be a suspicious old bastard sometimes. Well, scratch that - all the time.

"Do you want me to give you a taste, Frank?" the captain reached down as if to unscrew the lid of one of the tubes, and Frank shook his head quickly.

"There'll be no need for that, Singer. I'm just thinking of the customers..."

"How about you start thinking about the seller instead, since he's right here and willing to sell 10,000 bolts of the finest grade A lightning to you for a good 200."

"200? Honey, you're going stupid in your age," Frank laughed. "This stuff is difficult to shift, difficult to store, you know? Now, if you were to say 150..."

Dean and Cas wandered around Frank's shop, ogling at the immense collection on sale. It was like looking into an extended version of Bobby's closet, but encompassing a much wider range - there were also ingredients for spells, and boxes full of spare parts for ships and coaches, and a selection of potions and elixirs insisting that they could make Dean's hair grow or his cash flow treble for just a few guineas, as well as clothes and food and books and hygiene products and just about anything else you could think of. Mount Moondoor was the location of one of the busiest port towns for airship travellers, and Dean and Cas had found themselves in the underbelly, where the pirates came to trade their ill-gotten gains.

As Dean was explaining the function of scales to Castiel, he noticed a woman storm into the shop, wearing a long green dress and a furious expression. She marched over to where Frank and Bobby were still haggling - "I'll take you down to one-seven-five if you keep being rude, sugar plum" - and dropped a bag on the floor, pulling out a jar as she did so.

"You sold me frogspawn, you liar!" she snapped at Frank, who blinked. "You said this was the best dragon fat on the market, and I threw it into my spell to find it was frogspawn! You'll pay for this, Devereaux!"

"Now, now, Ruby, I'm sure this was all a mistake..." Frank tried, but as Dean and Cas looked on in interest, they saw Ruby's eyes burst into blackness, and she grabbed Frank's throat.

"You're nothing but a dirty illegal dealer," she snarled, and seemed about to do something drastic when Bobby's hands clamped down on the Daemon woman's shoulders and pulled her away, struggling.

"No-one threatens my dealer when I'm around, Ruby, and you know perfectly well Daemon aren't allowed in Moondoor," Bobby hissed, pulling the girl by the arm towards the door. "Now, you're lucky I'm not allowed here either, or I'd be calling the watch on you right now. So how about we leave, nice and quiet, and you let me finish my deal without any more attacks?"

As Bobby led Ruby out, the Daemon still glaring at him, Dean and Cas walked forward, curious.

"Who the hell was she?" Dean asked Frank, who was massaging his neck.

"Daemon," the dealer replied, narrowing his eyes at the two men. "She doesn't like me very much, but she also doesn't have much power. Mind you, makes up for it with her wicked temper. And who are you two adorable little idiots anyway?"

"We're travelling with Bobby," Cas replied, and when Frank frowned, Dean covered quickly, "He means Captain Singer. I'm his nephew, so..." he trailed off as Frank stared at them suspiciously, before turning and inspecting the lightning again. Dean gave Cas a look to say _'way to blow our cover!'_ and the star's frown deepened, replying _'there's no need to get upset'_.

Dean rolled his eyes and looked down to see Ruby's bag still laid out on the floor, the contents just visible. He scooped it up and grinned. "I'll just return this to her," he announced to Frank, waving the bag, and the shopkeeper made a dismissive gesture. Dean started towards the door, leaving Cas behind and riffling through the bag with interest. Just as he stepped out, passing Bobby who gave him a nod, his hand closed on a handle, and he drew it out.

It was a Bowie knife, with one jagged edge and strange symbols etched onto the side. Dean studied it, impressed, but just as he was about to put it back a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

"Is that my bag?" Ruby asked, and Dean turned, the hand with the knife dropping by his side.

"Uh, yeah," Dean smiled, handing it to her. "You left it, and I thought you may want it back before you went."

"Thank you," Ruby muttered, unfriendly, and took the bag back before slinging it over her shoulder. "But in the future, don't bother. I don't need humans running around with my things." She gave Dean a final glare before swishing away, her dark hair nearly hitting him in the face.

Inside the shop, Bobby had returned to Frank and they settled on 195 guineas for the lightning. Just as Frank was counting out, he beckoned Bobby closer and the captain leant over the counter, curious.

"Have you heard any of these rumours going around about a fallen star?" Frank hissed, and Bobby fought to kept a blank expression, as well as not looking over to where Castiel was reading book spines.

"Fallen star, you say?"

"Yeah," Frank murmured, excited. "Everyone's talking about it. We get our hands on one of those, and I could shut up shop. Retire."

"Really?" Bobby feigned slight interest, but he was worrying inside.

"Heard anything on your travels?"

"No," Bobby paused, then said firmly. Frank frowned.

"Not even a little sniff of a whisper?"

"Certain as I'm standing here," Bobby replied.

Frank narrowed his eyes again, wary. "Everyone's going on about it down at the market."

"The market near the wall?"

"Yes."

"Frank, you're an even bigger idjit than I thought if you're wasting your time with the gossip going round that pond scum down there," Bobby shook his head, glaring at the dealer, and stood up straight before saying loudly, "You going to give me my money or not, Devereaux?"

Frank handed over the cash in a bag, still looking at the captain with distrust. Bobby nodded thanks, then gave him a small, hapless smile before calling Castiel over and they left together.

They exited to see Dean watching Ruby go, after she rebuked him carelessly. Dean smiled at the two of them, and lifted his hand to wave before realising the Daemon's knife was still in his hand. He widened his eyes, and was about to call the woman back over when Bobby cut him off.

"What's that there, boy?"

Dean handed him the knife wordlessly, and Bobby inspected it. "Well I'll be damned," he murmured, turning it over in his hands.

"What? What about it?" Dean questioned.

"This knife...Frank would kill you to get his hands on it," Bobby warned, giving it back to Dean. "Ruby would kill you if she knew you had it. Why'd you steal it?"

"I didn't mean to," Dean insisted, glancing from Bobby to Cas, who was watching him with that stoic expression of his. "It was in her bag, and I pulled it out, and...what does it do?"

"Boy, you could kill a Daemon with this," Bobby tapped the knife in Dean's hand, serious. "Not exorcise, not trap - kill. So for God's sake, hold on to it and keep it safe." The captain started to walk away, back to the quay, and Dean turned to keep him in his view.

"Why?" he called after him. Bobby looked back at them.

 "Thought you boys said you had an Original Daemon on your tail," he shouted. "You want an answer to your problem, you're holding it."

Dean looked at Cas, wide-eyed, and the star stared at Ruby's knife, curious. Dean replaced the blade in his boot with the Daemon-killing knife and ran to catch up with Bobby, handing him the spare knife as he did. Cas joined them, and they returned to the ship together.

Dean was nervous as he climbed freely onto the deck of Bobby's ship. He glanced round at the crew, afraid of being recognised, but no-one seemed to realise. At least, there were no shouts of, "Hey, didn't we throw that guy off the ship this morning and he tumbled to his death?" 

Bobby clapped him on the back encouragingly, and held out his hand to the men and women. "Pirates, meet my nephew, Dean Winchester. He'll be joining us for the journey home. We're going to make him welcome and teach him a few of our tricks, understand?" The pirates nodded and a few smiled at Dean, who grinned back. "Here, I have someone to keep you company," Bobby added, and pointed at Castiel, who was standing at the edge of the group with his hands in his pockets, looking awkward.

"Dean, meet Castiel," the captain said, and though Dean found it awkward to be introducing himself to Cas, he shook his hand obligingly and went along with it, seeing what Bobby was doing and agreeing wholeheartedly.

The journey from Mount Moondoor to the market town of Campbell took three whole days for the sky pirates of Captain Singer's ship, Singer's Salvage. On the evening of the first day, the same day Dean had been introduced to the crew, he and Cas were shown around the entire ship by Linda Tran and Jody Mills, both seemingly kind women who suddenly turned very imposing when the wanted to. Dean learned that he didn't like flying particularly, especially when he was in a tiny crow's nest with no-one but an amused star for company (teaching him never to try and challenge Cas when it came to being in high places).

On the second day, Dean met the _very_ friendly Pamela Barnes, the ship's surgeon and psychic. When he asked what it meant to be a psychic, while she applied cooling cream to the still bright red handprint on his shoulder, she laughed and whispered in his ear, "I can read people's minds. For example, Dean, yes, I'm open to threesomes." Dean blushed hard and swore on his life that wasn't what he had been thinking, but Bobby was laughing too hard to listen and Castiel was too confused to care.

There was also Ash, who was in charge of navigation, and Victor Henrikssen, the carpenter who insulted Dean about how he was helping until Dean stopped a beam falling on him while down in the crew's quarters, and then they got along pretty well. Meanwhile, Cas had found the cabin boy, Kevin, who attempted to teach him some simple moves with his blade and, although finding Cas slightly unnerving, was ultimately successful.

On the final day, Bobby and the weapons keeper Charlie took it upon themselves to teach Dean how to shoot and fight properly, denouncing his self-defence knowledge to 'complete b.s'. They practiced against a target pinned to the mast, and although Dean was initially skeptical of the girl, she proved him wrong by hitting the centre three times and giving his handgun back to him, smirking. She was a fast fighter as well, but Dean refused to hit a woman until she kicked him in the stomach and he was forced to retaliate before Castiel stabbed her using his new techniques. Dean wondered whether Bobby could teach him anything about his new-found powers, but the captain apologised and explained every single one of his crew were human, and couldn't help when it came to Faerie magic.

Each evening, the cook Garth made them pretty good food, and Bobby explained that was the only reason they kept him around. "Kid's not a great fighter, but he means well." The only two pirates who Dean had no idea why they were there were Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spengler, two boys with a passion for lightning catching but really not that much in the way of smarts; the amount of times they made Bobby facepalm from their clumsiness was a continuos amusement to Dean. Castiel had an argument with the lookout Bela Talbot on the second day over astronomy, and Dean had to keep them apart after that as well.

And as each day passed, Dean felt less and less homesick, and watched Cas shine brighter and brighter.

* * *

On their last night, Ash pulled out a guitar, and started picking a tune. They sang songs, some Dean knew and quite a few he didn't, and it was late in the night before the crew started drifting to bed. Cruising slowly through the cloud bank with the stars looking closer than ever, Dean felt truly relaxed as he sat on top of his and Castiel's coats, watching Bobby gently guide Castiel through the rhythm of the music and teaching him a slow dance. They were talking quietly, too quiet for him to hear, but he didn't mind.

"...just keep turning, slowly, keep it in time," Bobby was murmuring, adjusting Castiel's arms and tapping out the beat with his foot. He watched the man, so concentrated on his moves, then said calmly, "Castiel, I know what you are."

The star paused in his step, and looked at the captain, wary.

"No, no, son, don't worry," Bobby assured him. "No-one on my ship is going to hurt you, not like some people out there. But your emotions give you away, Castiel. You have to learn how to control them."

"It's hard," Castiel replied quietly, starting up his slow dance again awkwardly. "These human bodies betray far more in a few movements than in a hundred words."

"It's not that," Bobby countered. "You've been glowing more brightly every day, and I think you know why."

"Of course I know why," Castiel confirmed, and Bobby raised an eyebrow. "I'm a star. What do stars do best?"

The captain rolled his eyes, seeing how he was missing the point. "Well, it's certainly not the waltz," he deadpanned, and the star smiled at the joke. "Maybe you need a partner. Dean?" The man looked up from Ash's slow strumming and Bobby beckoned him over. "Do you know how to dance?"

"A little," Dean said awkwardly, running a hand through his hair.

"Help Cas here. Be his partner," Bobby told him, turning away. Dean looked at Cas, opening his mouth slightly in surprise, then glanced at the captain's retreating back. "Why me?"

"Because I'm old, boy, and I'm tired. Just pretend I'm not here," Bobby said as he sat down in Dean's place next to Ash. Dean raised his eyebrows in a 'fair-enough', and turned back to the star. Cas was looking at him expectantly, and Dean shuffled slightly, feeling self-conscious again. It had happened far too much over the last few days, and especially around Cas.

 _Man up, Winchester_ , he told himself, and then told Cas,"Look, it's not that hard, okay? If I be the guy, and then you can be the girl-"

"Why must we be labelled 'man' and 'woman'? Surely dance is just about two people?" Castiel frowned in his no-nonsense way.

"Well, yeah," Dean tried. "But...okay, fine. Just, let me lead?" Cas nodded, and Dean opened his mouth a few times, wondering how to go about this. He licked his suddenly dry lips, then just commanded, "Put your hands on my shoulders." The star did so, and Dean internally shouted at his heart rate to shut up while he continued, "And I'm going to put my hands on your waist, okay?" When he did, Cas smiled at him, and maybe it was a trick of the darkness, but Dean could have sworn Cas seemed to intensify, like he was glowing brightly for some reason. He felt suddenly encouraged.

Dean started moving slowly, reminding Cas a few times to let him lead, but soon they fell into step together, in time to the strumming of the guitar and Bobby's foot gently tapping against the deck. Castiel's hands had slid around to join together against Dean's neck at some point, but he couldn't really argue since he himself had somehow ended up wrapping his arms around the star's hips, the two of them turning slowly in something that wasn't a waltz and wasn't a rumba but something in between, a delicate mix that could only be invented by a fallen star and a man on a ship in the sky middle of the night, unable to look away from each other's eyes and watched by a surly old pirate who wondered how something so obvious could be difficult to understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~developing romance and plot twist feels~ A song I always thought totally applied to Castiel throughout this story is Don't Let The World Turn Past Me by Alex Day - plus it's a really cute song. Anyway, thanks for reading!


	12. Incomplete

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, this is a lot of stuff happening in one chapter. But to continue with the theme of cute songs for Dean and Cas, I suggest You And Me by Lighthouse - totally Dean's POV. Enjoy!

_**Two days earlier**_  
While Dean and Castiel travelled on the Singer's Salvage hundreds of miles up in the air, making friends, enemies and bonds (some literal, some more profound and subtle), Crowley and Lucifer raced each other along the ground to keep up with the ship, now aware of the other's existence and determined to gain the upper hand. It was Lucifer who got to Moondoor first however, and at the same time as Dean was rescuing Victor and the star nearly impaled poor Kevin, he had the dealer Frank Devereaux pressed against his own shop wall with magic.

"And you're sure they were going north?" Lucifer hissed, letting the blue writhe through his irises and smiling at Frank's discomfort.

"Definitely," the dealer gasped, narrowing his eyes at the Faerie and wishing he armed himself more often.

"And there was a man with them? Short, dark-haired-"

"-wearing a trenchcoat and a serious face, yes, it was him!" Frank snapped.

"You're absolutely sure? Because if not..." Lucifer trailed off, tightening his hand just fractionally and Frank spat out, "Cross my heart!"

"Brilliant," Lucifer smiled and released his hold, watching Frank fall to the floor and take a few hacking coughs. "You'd better not be lying, you two-faced bastard."

"Thank you for your opinion," Frank retorted, standing up and brushing himself off. "I'll have you know, I'm quite respected in the pirate world, darling. I can get anyone anything, and that's a fact."

Lucifer, who had no interest in the man's chatter and had in fact made a mental note to get him arrested as soon as he was king, heard this last phrase and suddenly became very curious.

"What are the chances of getting a Babylon candle?" he demanded, and Frank leaned against his counter, thinking.

"That one's slim. Although, I did know a girl once..." he winked at Lucifer, who remained unimpressed, and the dealer hurried on, "...she had a sister. Well, I think it was a woman..."

"Enough!" Lucifer's hand flew to his holster and he bent further over the table, looking Frank in the eye. "Can you get me a candle or not?"

* * *

_**Now**_  
"Hold on tight!" Linda hollered from the stern, knowing full well every pirate on the ship could hear her. "Captain's at the helm!"

Dean and Castiel were holding onto the rigging at the side of the deck, watching the hillside come closer and closer. Dean's once tidy hair had gone back to its scruffy style and streaked with gold, and Cas was looking distinctly more tanned, and both of them had worn and torn their new clothes from Bobby through their activities on the ship. However, they looked happy, and even in the bright sunlight you just see a slightly unnatural light surrounding the star. Dean adjusted his bag and tried not to get hit by the barrel slung across Cas's back, one of the spare lightning collections given as a gift from the captain. It was heavy, but the star wore it like it was nothing, and from what Dean had seen of Cas's strength, it probably was. The ship bumped up against the small port, and Dean threw a loop of rope over a brass pole there to keep them on temporarily.

The crew moved forward, letting Captain Singer go first and join his nephew and the ex-prisoner by the side. Bobby pointed down at a track going over the hill. "So there's the road that'll take you to Campbell, and you can get to Wall from there," he gestured, and then he turned to face the pair. He looked to the star first, holding out a hand to be shook firmly. "Good luck to you on your journey home, Castiel, wherever that may be." Cas nodded thanks, and climbed over the edge to jump easily down onto the ground. He straightened in time to see Dean give Bobby a firm hug, slapping his back and smiling.

"And good luck to you, Dean, with your Lisa," Bobby said calmly, looking the young man right in the eye. Dean blinked at him, and then remembered what he was talking about. _Of course, he thought, that's why I'm going back, isn't it?_

"Thanks," he nodded, giving Bobby a grin that did not reach his eyes, and moved to get off the ship. However, just as he did, Bobby reached out to grasp his arm and bent his head close. He said something quietly in Dean's ear, and Cas watched, intrigued, as Dean's face changed from confused to disbelieving to something else entirely, like he'd realised something but wasn't sure what it was yet. Bobby clapped him on the back, nearly knocking Dean over the side, and laughed at him. "Just something to think about."

Dean nodded, slowly, then let himself down onto the ground. He was still staring at Bobby, who gave them a salute. "Give my regards to Earth," he shouted. "And mind you don't wear that boy out, Captain Winchester!" The crew saluted and then burst into laughter. Castiel didn't quite understand the jest, but from the way Dean looked at him and blushed deeply he assumed they were intending to make him uncomfortable. Instead, Castiel just indicated to the road in front of them.

"Shall we?"

Behind them, the ship became a flurry of activity again as they started to leave, but the noises faded out their hearing as they walked, Dean unnaturally quiet. Cas resisted the urge to look back at the ship, instead watching the man out of the corner of his eye. Over these few days, Cas felt like he'd come to know Dean well, and from the way his forehead was wrinkled and he stared at his feet without seeing, Cas knew he was thinking deeply about something. Cas moved a little closer, wanting to say something, but he felt like this strange light feeling in his abdomen was stopping him.

 _That's ridiculous,_ he reasoned. _Emotion is not a physical barrier or compass, like I told him on our first day._ So, determined, he asked Dean, "What did he say to you?"

"Huh?" Dean was pulled out of his thoughts to see Cas looking at him, a serious expression on his face. _Of course not,_ he reasoned to himself, and said out loud, "What d'you say?"

"I'm assuming you're thinking about Captain Singer," the star stated. "What did he say to you, when he whispered?"

Dean opened his mouth, then shut it, then shifted his gaze from Cas's curious blue eyes: "No, I...well, it was...no...he was just saying that we should use the lightning to get you a Babylon candle. You know, trade it. Then you can go home, back in the sky." Dean gestured upwards vaguely and stuck his hands in his coat pockets, pursing his lips and trying not to think about Castiel leaving.

* * *

_**One day earlier**_  
Frank was just shutting up after a slow business day when a coach pulled up at his door, and as a man climbed out and marched towards the dealer, he got a distinct sense of déjà vu. Sure enough, the man's hand raised, oddly scarred and blistered, and Frank held his arms out in surrender.

"Look, the magic-hold-against-the-wall thing is so 24 hours ago, sweetie," he sighed, and the man stopped, frowning at him. His neck was scarred as well, large sections of it split like the skin couldn't hold itself together any more. Frank continued, "I'll tell you what you need to know if you don't try and strangle me, deal?"

"Fine," the man replied, and he had a strange cockney accent that told Frank he was foreign. "I'm looking for a man. He is-"

"-in a trenchcoat, wearing a necklace with a large stone that wouldn't really fetch a few, am I right?" Frank finished. "You're the second person to ask me that," he commented, walking back inside and letting the man follow.

"Who was the first?"

"Faerie. Average guy, blonde, very easily annoyed-"

"Dammit!" the man snapped. He looked at Frank. "He's ahead of me."

"O-kay," Frank said slowly, unwillingly to get caught up in the search for this seemingly unimportant man. "Anyway, as I said to him, they went north. That's all I can do for you."

* * *

_**Now**_  
Crowley sat in his coach, rumbling northward slowly and staring at his own hand in frustration. He gently gathered a few slivers of green magic in his right index finger then flicked them at his hand, concentrating on healing. The magic rippled over his hand, momentarily cleaning his skin of blisters and making it smooth. Then, as soon as the spell was done, pain flashed across his palm and the blisters reappeared, even redder. Crowley hissed through his teeth, and flexed his fingers quickly. Just as he was about to try again, a cough sounded and he looked up guiltily to see Lilith and Azazel watching him through the mirror, his brother attempting to hold back a smile and failing epically.

"If you've finished wasting your magic on your counterproductive beauty routine," Lilith began, and he even saw flashes of mirth in her eyes. Sitting up properly and trying to keep any dignity he had left, Crowley said archly, "Yes?"

"You might like to know the star has landed," Azazel finished, and Crowley forgot about the incident and leaned forward.

"Where is he?"

Lilith looked down at a hidden map. "He's on the road, heading towards Campbell where it comes close to the wall. If you take a shortcut across the marshes, you should be able to intercept him."

"It'll drain my power," Crowley advised her. "I'm already moving slower than I should be with this prince trying to beat me, because the star's heart is almost done."

"Then I suggest you stop trying to heal yourself and actually be helpful," Lilith smiled sweetly.

"Thank you," Crowley nodded sincerely, and before he could reach forward he sister beat him to it, tapping the glass. Azazel and Lilith faded from view and Crowley glared daggers at their no-longer images.

* * *

"Castiel." Dean suddenly grabbed the star's arm and dragged him to the side of the road, ducking down behind a hedge and pulling Cas with him. Cas opened his mouth to complain but Dean shushed him, and he stayed silent as a coach gently rattled past, heading in the opposite direction.

Dean dropped his hand from being clamped around Cas's forearm and sighed. "I'm sorry," he murmured, glancing up at the star out of the corner of his eye. "I just...I can't risk people seeing you. I don't trust anyone."

"Dean, they can't possibly know what I am just by looking," Cas frowned. "And at this rate, if we keep stopping-"

"Cas, we're making good time," Dean said hastily. "Just leave it a minute."

Cas took a deep breath and then nodded, allowing Dean to have his satisfaction. Instead, he watched the man stare silently at the road, the shadows from the leaves flickering across his face and highlighting his freckles. _It's amazing how no matter how long I look at him,_ I continue to see more, Cas thought. _Human faces are so...deep._ Dean shifted fractionally, and Cas suddenly became aware of how close they were in this space, shoulders and hips pressed together and Dean's face just a few inches from his own. _If he wanted, Dean could overpower me right here,_ a small hysterical part of his mind whispered, and Cas looked warily down at where Dean's hands rested innocently in his lap.

"Are you ever tempted?" Cas said slowly, after a few moments deliberation over how to phrase his question. Dean looked back at him, his green eyes filling with confusion.

"Tempted? By...what do you mean?"

"Immortality," Cas said simply, and saw how Dean's eyebrows raised and he glanced down at the star's chest, where his heart was beating quite a few above the normal 70, although Dean didn't know this. He also wasn't aware of the way it skipped a few when the man looked back up at Cas and replied, "Do you think I could do that to you?"

Castiel, however, was, and he tried to forget it as he tried, "Let's say it wasn't my heart. A star you didn't know. Would you?"

"I...don't know," Dean said finally, and Cas smiled at his honesty. "I mean, even if I wanted to...everlasting life? Seriously? It'd get kind of lonely."

The star blinked. "I'd never thought of it like that before. I suppose humanity has a need for company on that level."

"Oh thanks," Dean rolled his eyes, chuckling slightly. "You make us sound so desperate."

"Not desperate, Dean, just...incomplete," Cas searched for the right word, and that one seemed to come easily. Dean's eyes widened fractionally and his mouth opened slightly as if to reply, but he stayed quiet. Cas carried on, "In that case, maybe if you had someone to share it with. Maybe then it would be different. Dean, if you had someone you loved, would you live forever, for...them...then?"

Cas trailed off slowly as he became aware of the way Dean was looking at him, like he was saying something unbelievable. His expression was relaxed, wide-eyed, so different from the tense, hurried boy he'd met just six days ago, and Cas felt like he could count the shades of colour in his eyes, ranging from forest green to pastel in his left eye and in his right, the same but with shots of blue which grew and fell as the star watched, flickering in tune with Dean's emotions, Dean's nervousness. Cas wasn't sure how he knew that, but he did, and he also knew it was true as he glanced over Dean's face and saw how he was also being inspected, the man's gaze switching from first Cas's eyes, then his cheek, then lips, and so on. Cas felt like he was on high alert to Dean, skin buzzing where their hands brushed together, lying on the ground; he was aware, so aware, so humanly aware to everything this one small insignificantly important man did as he moved fractionally, his head seeming to lean forward and Cas felt himself mirroring it subconsciously, his body responding automatically to the pull, and the inches between them were lessening-

Another carriage thundered past them suddenly, wheels clattering against the ground and horses neighing louder than a cannon shot. Dean and Castiel both jumped, and then the coach was gone just as quickly as it was there, rumbling speedily down the road and out of hearing. Dean blinked a few times and glanced at Cas, his face red, and as he pulled himself up quickly he saw the way the star was looking at down at his hands like he was embarrassed. Dean stood on the road and mentally cursed himself, angry for losing hold like that, and tapped his foot impatiently. "Come on, I think we're safe," was all he could say, then Cas nodded and stood, brushing himself off and looking Dean sincerely. There was something off about him, Dean couldn't put his finger on it, and he kept stealing glances at the star for the next awkwardly silent few minutes until he realised it, and stopped.

"You're glowing," he stated, staring at Cas. Now it had hit him, he remembered seeing Cas shine slightly that day on the ship when they had first changed into their new clothes, and last night when they had been dancing it had been brighter, and just now... "Do you realise you do that?"

Cas paused a few steps in front of Dean, tipping his head to one side and a flash of something like regret crossed his face. "Yes, I know. Is it...obvious?"

"Sometimes," Dean replied, starting to walk again. "Is it normal?"

Cas chuckled, and raised his eyebrows at Dean. "Think about it, Dean. What do stars do?"

Dean deliberated exaggeratedly, then said, "Attract the forces of Hell?"

Cas narrowed his eyes, unamused, and his pace sped up so Dean had to jog slightly to keep up with him.

"Okay, right, I'm sorry," he confessed, laughing, "but you've got to admit that was a little funny."

"You have one more guess," Cas replied, and Dean took it as his gesture of forgiveness.

"Is it...they know exactly how to annoy a boy called Dean Winchester?" Dean deadpanned, unable to resist, and this time Cas actually crossed his arms and look determinedly away from Dean, studying the side of the road with rapt interest. Dean was laughing too much to care, and after a few moments the star had to smile. Their eyes locked for a moment, and even after they both looked away quickly, coughing awkwardly, the ghosts of those grins didn't leave for a while.


	13. Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to get an X-Men reference into this chapter, so really I've achieved all I ever wanted from this story xD The point is, All This And Heaven Too by Florence + the Machine. That is the point. Please enjoy!

Captain Singer was just pouring himself another glass of whiskey and updating the ship's log when he heard a commotion on the deck. He sat up, aware they had stopped for a quick supply run and wondering whether Garth and Linda were arguing over what counted as 'essential' again, but from the sound of it this was more than two people. There was running and shouting, and then a distinct shot was fired, and everyone fell silent.

"Balls!" Bobby spat, and got up to see who had been hurt. Just as he was making for the door, it slammed open and two men walked through it, moving towards Bobby's desk and bookshelf and beginning to rifle through it. Bobby's eyes widened and he turned to see another man saunter in, blond and proud.

"What the hell is this?" Bobby demanded from the man, who was quite obviously in charge. "Who the hell are you?"

"My name is Prince Lucifer, the seventh son of the Lord of Stormhold," Lucifer announced, and he flashed a cruel smile at Bobby, who stood dumbstruck. "You are Captain Robert Singer, a dirty pirate and illegal lightning trader. And you're going to tell me where I can find the star."

* * *

 "I'm not against the idea, but Lucifer is going to be pretty pissed when he finds out we left," Uriel complained, sticking his hands in his pockets and trying not to fall through the top of the cart.

"So? He's our little brother," Michael replied, looking back at the fourth-born and raising an eyebrow. "We should be telling him what to do, not the other way around."

"I still think we should have told Samandriel we were leaving," Balthazar mused, who (being the next oldest after Samandriel) had more of a soft spot for him than the others. "Now he's going to be following Crowley on his own."

"Look, it was his choice to do it, right? Sammy's a big boy, albeit not a very powerful one," Gabriel countered. "I just feel bad for the kid when Lucy sees we've all hauled ass."

"Okay, I can see your point," Uriel admitted. "But where are we going?"

"Campbell, remember?" Raphael rolled his eyes. "Lucifer said that was where the star is heading, and we may as well go and see what they're up to."

"Plus, when Crowley and Lucy get there, it'll all be going down," Balthazar grinned.

"Also, the star's boyfriend is kind of funny to watch exist," Gabriel concluded. "He's so annoyingly human for someone who's supposed to be half-Faerie."

Uriel sighed and threw a hand in the air. "I can't believe I let you talk me into these things. I really didn't like you when we were breathing, and now I think I hate you even more."

"Feeling's mutual," Michael, Raphael, Gabriel and Balthazar all grunted back, false-smiling at each other and then glaring into space. There was a few moments of silence as the ghosts rumbled along on top of the cart, pulled by a grey donkey slowly. Even though they didn't know it, each brother was thinking about the same thing, but it was Raphael who finally said it.

"If Mary hadn't been kidnapped all those years ago...do you think we'd hate each other as much as we do?"

* * *

"Use your Faerie powers," Cas suggested, and Dean gave him a look.

"I thought we'd already confirmed that I have no idea how my powers work. They just happen," Dean replied, standing next to the signpost that pointed to Campbell. "And if I could make them work, how am I supposed to use them to work out how long the journey will take? I thought you had some special star mojo. Why don't you use your powers?"

"Fine," Cas's jaw tightened, and before Dean could stop him, he raised two fingers and pressed them lightly against the man's forehead. Dean felt an incredible slice of pain right across his chest, and he cried out.

"Dammit Cas, how many scars are you planning on leaving on me?"

"I've carved a few Enochian symbols into your ribs," the star said calmly, like he did this sort of thing every day. "Try your power now."

Dean narrowed his eyes at him, but he went along with it. He straightened up, wincing, and then faced the direction of Campbell. With absolutely no idea what he was doing, he opened his mouth, then shut it again, then clapped his hands together and said, "How long will it take to get to the wall?"

He waited for a moment, and nothing happened. Cas sighed behind him, then said, "Two days walk," and started on again.

"Huh?"

"I'm the north star, Dean. I know where everything is in relation to myself," Cas said like it was obvious.

"You mean you knew the whole time, and you just went Vulcan on my ribs for amusement?" Dean stated incredulously, and slightly annoyed, falling into step beside the star.

Cas frowned at him. "I don't understand that reference, but I did make the symbols to help you. However, there was no point if you don't know how to use your magic. The important thing is, Campbell is two days away if we carry on at this speed."

"Two days? But Lisa's birthday is tomorrow!"

"Yes, I am aware of that."

"So how are we supposed to-" Dean cut off as he heard another coach come down the road, and he was just about to grab Cas and hide again when he looked back and actually saw the cart, a once-brightly coloured gypsy caravan with a woman sitting on the front, eating from a newspaper cone filled with fries and occasionally kicking at a birdcage hanging from the door, which had a small blue bird inside. The cart wasn't pulled by any horses, but it was moving, meaning magic, and as it came closer Dean recognised the woman.

"That's Ruby, the Daemon from Frank's, remember?" he hissed as Cas, who looked at him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," the man replied. "We could hitch a lift. She knows Bobby, and I talked to her a bit." The carriage was close now, and Dean hurried quickly in front of it, waving. "Hey! Hey!"

Ruby looked up quickly, and flicked one of her hands to stop the coach. She sat up and glared at Dean. "Are you crazy?"

"Sorry," he smirked, and as Cas walked up to join him, he started, "My name is Dean Winchester, and-"

"Hang on..." Ruby frowned, and jumped down to stand in front of the men. "I know you. You were the one with my bag outside the shop of that bastard Frank's. You-you stole my knife!" She glared at Dean, and raised a hand as if to strike him. Her pupils expanded to turn her eyes black, and Dean took a step back. He felt Cas move into a defensive position next to him, his blade slipping into his hand, and the bird in the cage even began to jump up and down and tweet desperately.

"No, no, I didn't, I swear!" Dean tried, holding his hands up in surrender. "I have no idea what you're talking about!"

Ruby's eyes narrowed and she paused. "Really? Because if you're lying-"

"I'm not," Dean shook his head, and moved his left foot back slightly, feeling the Daemon knife's edge press against his shin. Ruby's hand lowered slowly, but her eyes stayed that unnerving darkness. Cas relaxed, though his blade stayed in his hand.

"That's a interesting flower you've got there," Ruby said suddenly, nodding at his buttonhole. Dean looked down to see his mother's snowdrop in his coat, where he'd tucked after changing on the ship. He'd almost forgotten about it, and now Ruby was looking at it with a small smile.

"Uh, yeah, it was a gift from my mother-"

"It looks a lot like one I lost eighteen years ago," Ruby mused, still smiling slightly and glancing up at Dean. "But I never remember seeing you there..." The bird in the cage started tweeting again, and Dean's gaze flew to it nervously.

"Um, well, if you want it, then I could exchange it for what I need," Dean commented calmly, keeping his expression relaxed, and trying not to let his eye give him away.

"Which is?" Ruby questioned.

"A Babylon candle," Dean listed, "and safe passage to the wall."

"A Babylon candle? I'm not a dealer, you idiot. But if you want a lift to the wall, I'll do it if you give me the flower."

"Food and lodgings for us as well?"

Ruby looked confused at his use of the plural, but her eyes gently receded back to normality and she shook her head. "Safe passage only. I swear you will arrive in Campbell in the exact same condition that you are in now."

Dean grinned. "Deal." He took the flower from his buttonhole and held it out to Ruby, frowning at the bird which was chirping very annoyingly, practically throwing itself at the side of the cage. Ruby saw it too as she took the flower from him, and gave Dean a small smile as she inspected it.

"Ignore her. She's angry since I put her in there. Now, do you have any idea what this flower did?"

"Um, my dad said it was lucky..." Dean trailed off, unsure.

"Not just luck," Ruby grinned, and tucked the flower into her belt. "Protection. In fact, the exact thing that was stopping me from doing this," Ruby held out her hand to Dean suddenly, eyes burning black and chanting in Latin. Green magic enveloped Dean, who stepped back and started to shout, but after a few moments he couldn't anymore.

Castiel, who had felt very suspicious during the entire conversation and now saw his fears confirmed, immediately moved forward to attack Ruby, bringing his blade up and aiming for her stomach. However, she paid absolutely no notice to Cas, not even looking at him or acknowledging his existence. He frowned, momentarily confused, and in that moment the Daemon finished her chant and the green magic faded away. Cas looked down to see a small grey mouse running around where Dean had just been standing, squeaking quietly to itself.

Ruby smiled and reached down, picking up the mouse and glaring at it. "Much better." Cas blinked once then felt anger as Ruby started to walk inside, again ignoring him. He followed her, and then with one smooth swing, went to plunge the blade into her back.

But he met resistance, powerful and immovable, and the blade's tip clanged painfully off some invisible barrier. He tried again, but no matter what he did, he couldn't touch Ruby, and he could do nothing as she calmly placed the Dean mouse in a box in her cart and then walked outside, sitting down and gesturing for her carriage to move again. Cas crossed his arms, glaring at her.

"So I assume you can neither hear nor see me?" he told the Daemon, sitting down on the bench next to the box. "Then I'd like to tell you, you're an evil Hellspawn who deserves to burn. If I had that knife..." Cas trailed off, and glanced down at Dean scurrying around in the box. "I swear," he added, on second thought, "if I don't get my Dean back to the way he was, then I shall be your personal poltergeist!"

Ruby carried on eating, and Cas sighed and watched Dean quietly crunch down a piece of cracker that was lying the box. All things considered, he made a very stupid mouse, Cas decided, and chuckled to himself. Dean would have laughed at that if he could have heard it.

"Dean, can you hear me?" Cas tried, and the mouse stopped. Cas's spirits lifted for a moment, then Dean started scratching his ear and the star slumped. He picked up the box and put it on his lap, watching Dean continue to nibble on the crackers Ruby had.

"Maybe I prefer you when you're a mouse. At least you don't talk," Cas smiled slightly, coaxing a reaction from Dean, but the mouse didn't move. "Then I assume you can't hear me. Wonderful," the star said sarcastically, and tapped his fingers against the side of the box in a random tune. It was going to be a long journey.

* * *

_**Four hours later**_  
"...and then my older brother stopped me and said, 'Don't underestimate that fish, Castiel. Big plans for that fish.' I suppose it sounds quite ridiculous to you, but I was young then, and I never expected humanity to turn out the way it did. You took us quite by surprise."

Cas picked up one of the pieces of cheese and watched the Dean-mouse scurry after his finger, and try to bite it; he dropped the cheese back in and Dean seemed satisfied. He'd been telling stories for hours now, unsure as to why since it wasn't like anyone could hear him, but the quiet rattle of the carriage had started to echo in his ears and before he started going crazy, he began a tale of when man had first invented the wheel. Dean was a good audience after all: silent and contemplative, and not even a noisy eater. If only he was listening.

_It's strange how even though he's right here, I miss him,_ Cas thought, and he wondered when he had started to miss Dean like this during his time on Earth. Maybe it had been when they escaped the inn fire, maybe it had been when they talked in the brig, maybe it had been when they danced that night on the ship and Cas had been so wrapped up in Dean that he had even blanked out the Enochian whispers of his siblings in the sky above him; but at some point, something in him had moved to make a permanent space for the man, and now when Cas imagined leaving Dean and returning home, his stomach felt light and heavy all at the same time. Like it wasn't home anymore.

_Shouldn't I tell Dean about this feeling?_ Cas wondered. _I can't continue to feel like I'm bound to one person only and for them to never know it. It will be hard to explain, but after what happened on the road, what nearly happened...I think I know what it is. But why?_ a small hysterical part of his mind whispered. _You know how he feels - it's the whole reason you're here with him. So what would you gain in revealing yourself, apart from causing him grief?_

Castiel leant back against the wall of the caravan. "I could tell you now," he contemplated out loud, glancing nervously at the Dean-mouse, which had paused for a moment to sniff the air. "You can't hear me, after all, and I think...I think I need to say it at least once. Then, I believe - I hope - I'm strong enough to keep silent. Enough to keep you safe, at least."

There were a few more minutes of silence.

"Dean, remember when I said I know little about love? ...Well, that wasn't strictly true. I know...a lot about love. I've seen it, Dean - centuries and centuries of it. It was the only thing that made watching your world bearable: all those wars, pain and lies...hate. It made me want to turn away and never look down again. I would have, Dean, but...to see the way humanity loves, I think it was worth it. I firmly believe you could search to the furthest reaches of the universe and never find anything...more beautiful.

"So, yes, I know that love is unconditional. But I also know that it can be unpredictable...unexpected...uncontrollable, unbearable and sometimes, very, very easy to mistake for dislike. Although-I always liked you, Dean. And I wish...I wish I'd had the chance to ask you why you were so sad. And-and to ask if I could make you happy, and anything else, Dean, because as long as I could stay with you, I didn't care what happened. It's more than that, though...I can't...human emotion is so strong, how do you deal with this? My heart...it feels like my chest can hardly contain it. Like...it doesn't belong to me anymore. I think...I think it belongs to you. And if-if you wanted it, I'd wish for nothing in exchange. No gifts, no goods, nothing. Nothing except knowing that you... Your heart in exchange for mine.

"What I'm trying to say, Dean, is I think I love you."


	14. Flying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trade Mistakes by Panic! At The Disco gave me the title inspiration. Also...I can still keep this Teen-rated, right? Thanks to winteronyxnight and ThatisillogicalCaptain for bookmarking, and enjoy!

Crowley stuck his head out of the window of his coach and frowned at the quickly darkening sky. However, even this simple expression made his face sting as it pulled on the broken skin across his forehead, and he winced and retreated before further damage could be done.

He inspected his face in the mirror, and did not like what he saw. He had pumped more magic into the coach in a failed bid to get to Campbell before nightfall, and now it was twilight and he was running out. Most of his vessel was red and sore now, flesh rubbed raw through his clothes and burning. His face had been the last to be affected, thankfully, but now it was blistered all across his left cheek and his forehead, just skirting his eye and mouth but still painful.

As Crowley watched, his reflection suddenly flickered and became his sister. He blinked, then rolled his eyes and said, "What?"

"You've made good time, Crowley," the Original Daemon smiled. She was pleased, and when Lilith was pleased it usually meant someone had just been or was just about to be murdered. "You're very close. The star is just arriving in Campbell."

"Love, you speak like that's good news," Crowley frowned. "I'm still miles away, and if he crosses into the human universe-"

"I know, he will become rock," Lilith sighed, and her smile faded slowly. "It is possible they will stop; his halfbreed companion needs sleep. But I do suggest you hurry up."

"Have you started getting things ready?" Crowley asked.

"Azazel has been collecting some magic," Lilith's grin was back. "We selected a few worthy Daemons and started siphoning. There's enough to get us to the surface, but we may have to take human vessels as opposed to building our own. But once we're there, we'll have the warehouse ready for the ritual."

"Can't wait," Crowley raised an eyebrow, and tapped the glass lazily with his foot to get rid of Lilith's face. He sighed, slumped into the bench and flicked a hand to add a little more magic to the coach's speed. Sometimes being Original Daemon was hard work.

* * *

 Castiel had just sensed the sunset and was listening in anticipation for his brothers and sisters to begin talking, when the cart bumped to a gentle halt and he heard Ruby stand up and stretch. Cas quickly put the box back on the bench and raised himself as the Daemon entered, picked up Dean and smiled at him. "You're lucky I have Mary," Ruby mused, carrying the mouse outside as Cas followed, "or it would have taken far longer to get here. She gave me a boost."

Cas wondered vaguely who Mary was, but the thoughts quickly left his mind as he watched Ruby put Dean down on the cobblestones and say a few Latin words, green magic surrounding the mouse. He grew and changed quickly, and Ruby put her hands on her hips as the magic faded away and Dean, himself once again, said something intelligible and staggered. Cas rushed forward to hold his arm and chest, pulling the man up easily. Dean blinked at him, his eyes unfocused.

"The wall is one mile that way," Ruby pointed down the street, where a few people were walking. She watched Dean impassively as he tried to stand properly and failed, narrowing her eyes as he seemed to straighten himself suddenly. She wasn't aware of Cas catching him just before he fell and slinging Dean's arm over his shoulder. "Though the walk may take longer for you; transformation can scramble your brain for a while." She grinned cruelly then flicked a hand at her cart, which began to follow her as she made her way down a side street, out of Cas's view.

The star looked at Dean, who's head was slumped on his chest and was still blinking sleepily. Cas sighed and started to walk down the street, his strength taking the man's weight. He moved to the side to get out of the way of a cart as it rattled past, and then Dean suddenly jerked up, his vision refocusing.

"Michael?" he murmured, seeing the man come into his view, even though he was strangely pale and transparent. However, before he could concentrate properly, the image seemed to fly away and he heard Castiel's voice above him: "I think I preferred 'mom'."

Dean looked up at the star, who gave him a small smile, and Dean realised he was slumped against him. He tried to stand properly, but his feet felt suddenly weak and he garbled, "Cas...m'star..."

"Come on," Cas continued, walking down the street to where he could see a sign. "I believe that's an inn there, hopefully a nicer one than the last. You're tired, and Lisa's birthday isn't until tomorrow."

"Lisa...damn..." Dean muttered, feeling like he was drunk and still attempting to stand. Next to him, Cas's jaw tightened and he tried to sound casual as he said, "I think I need to clean up before I meet her."

"But I don't..." Dean trailed off, trying to finish this really important sentence for Cas, but his mouth wasn't cooperating. Cas took it the wrong way, and simply replied, "But you need sleep."

In another minute, they had arrived at the inn, and Cas stopped in the hall, unsure what to do. However, the innkeeper seemed to understand, and he rushed forward to help Cas help Dean up the stairs to a room. "Could you run him a bath, please?" Cas asked, and the innkeeper nodded before they lay Dean on the bed, the man already snoring slightly. Cas relaxed, and he was just watching Dean curl up and start to sleep deeply when he realised that the room only had one bed: a double, the one Dean was sleeping in. Cas turned to the innkeeper, about to ask if they could move, but heard the sound of water running and stopped. Well, I don't need to sleep at night anyway, Cas decided, even though he'd actually been able to catch a few hours rest during darkness on their last night on the ship. He sat on the bed next to Dean, waiting patiently until the innkeeper finished and exited the room, giving Cas a thumbs up as he left.

Cas tried to shake Dean awake, but the man just batted him away and muttered something about someone called Sam stealing his pie. Cas grinned subconsciously, and then glanced at the full bath he could see through the door. _Waste not, want not._

* * *

 Dean drifted awake from dreams of his family some time later, and he lay there confusedly for a moment before his memories came rushing back to him. The walk and Ruby and being transformed and Cas and oh shit, _Cas._

Dean resisted the urge to panic and instead forced himself to breathe slowly as he tiptoed through his mind, remembering drifting around in that tiny mouse body and watching Castiel, warped and huge above him, drop food into the box and talk for hours on end about nothing at all. Except then he had talked about something. Something quite important.

_"What I'm trying to say, Dean, is I think I love you."_

_Hearing him saying it was...incredible,_ Dean could only think. _It was like holding your breath underwater, to the point where your lungs are contracting and you start seeing black, and then you break the surface and suck in air for the first time. Except I didn't even realise I'd been under._

_Wait, so does that mean I...no. Maybe. No. Yes. No! I don't...shit._

Dean pushed his existential crisis to one side for a moment and sat up on his elbows to see he was in a small room, unfamiliar but instantly recognisable: inn. He glanced around and saw a near-closed door, a dresser and a chair with some clothes piled on it, and the barrel of lightning leaning against it. He frowned, then looked closer and saw a shirt, pants and tie tangled up with a long, tan trenchcoat. What-

Dean stood up and pressed a hand against his forehead, feeling a headache coming on and willing it away. Surprisingly it did, and Dean blinked once before looking at his hand. It looked normal, but Dean was sure he'd just done magic. Maybe Cas's symbols were working finally. Experimentally, Dean looked at the door and snapped his fingers. It flew open, slamming against the wall loudly. Dean jumped, then burst into laughter as he saw what was inside: a bathtub with a startled Castiel sitting in it, hidden from the shoulders down and his wet hair plastered to his face and neck. Dean's heart skipped a few beats and his train of thought flew back to his fluttering feelings. _Yes, at some point...shit._

"I think you're in my bath," Dean deadpanned, and the star's expression changed from panicked to awkward.

"I'm sorry," Cas started. "You were asleep, and-"

"It's fine," Dean waved a hand and smiled, literally feeling the sappiness it exuded. "I needed the rest. And it looks like your magic boost started working."

"Wait, so that was..." Cas trailed off, looking at the door, then smiled - sadly, for some reason. "Well done. I'm sure your mother would be proud you've finally come into your heritage."

"I probably can't do much," Dean wondered, snapping his fingers again and watching Cas's blade lying on the dresser lift, then drop again with a loud clang. "Awesome!" He looked at the star, and caught a flash of pain on his face. "What?" he asked immediately, worried. _What are you, a Disney princess?_

"Nothing," Castiel shook his head and willed away the unhappy thoughts filling his head. "I need to get out."

"Okay," Dean nodded, and stood up the remove his coat. Cas waited, but Dean just stood there.

"Close your eyes!"

"But I'm not going to..." Dean smirked, and then he realised he kind of wanted to, and blushed hard. He shut his eyes quickly. "I'm not looking. See, I'll even turn around."

Cas narrowed his eyes, but Dean was facing the opposite wall (and unbeknownst to Cas, seriously stressing about his heterosexual reputation), so the star stood up and wrapped a towel around his waist, before stepping out and walking into the room.

"All right, you can open them now," Cas commanded, and he started to rub his head with a spare towel, drying his hair. He removed the towel to see Dean leaning against the end of the bed and watching him- well, more accurately, watching his chest. Cas felt his face flush and he held the towel closer, covering himself.

"Dean," he started, but something about the man's expression stopped him.

Dean was fiddling with the buttons on his waistcoat, his boot tapping against the ground and he face looked conflicted, like he was about to say something, then not. In reality, he was desperately resisting the separate urges of running very far away and hiding under a rock, demanding the truth from Cas in case the star had been messing with him, blurting out his feelings in haze of stupidity, and also staring at Cas's chest, which had revealed itself to be appropriate levels of _woah_.

Cas moved closer, unsure what to do, then Dean looked him in the eyes. He was smiling, but it was almost forced, and the blue quivering in his right eye gave away his fear. _He's a man. A dude. A guy. And you don't swing that way. Not towards him, even though he's admittedly cute and his eyes_ (dark blue eyes don't even exist) _and that hair_ (I just want to run my fingers through it) _and the way he looks at you with that stupid head tilt_ (how is bringing this woman a handcuffed, injured man supposed to be a romantic gesture) _and he's kind_ (to see the way humanity loves, I think it was worth it) _and confused_ (surely dance is just about two people) _and adorable_ (I do have a sense of humour, Dean) _and clever_ (I know where everything is in relation to myself) _and brave_ (it's a long way down) _and believes in you_ (why fight to be accepted by people you don't actually want to be like...why **would anyone do that** to himself) _and makes you speechless_ (would you **live forever for them** , then) _and he's a star_ **(Mine is Castiel)** _and you're just a man_ **(you really are special)** _and out of all the people in the entire world, he chose to save you. And I don't think I could ever walk away from him._

"Cas...did you really mean what you said in the caravan?"

Castiel's breath caught, and before he could even try to lie he knew Dean had got the truth by the way his smile suddenly grew a lot more real. Dean smirked, and all of the meaningless babble from just at few seconds ago flew away and he felt his stomach turn backflips as for the first time, he saw Castiel at a loss for words.

"But...but you were a mouse!" Cas tried, those incredible dark blue eyes of his that Dean had first noticed when they met filling with disbelief and, was that a hint of hope? "You wanted crackers! You ran around in a circle for at least forty minutes! How..."

Dean just smiled wider, and now he, dizzy with elation and confidence, reached out to the star, pulling him close by the small of his bare back. There was no resistance, even though he knew Castiel was far, far stronger than him, and that was when all doubt left Dean's mind: _Cas loves me, and I am so not straight._

The towel in Cas's hand slipped from his frozen fingers, and he looked up at Dean through his lashes, almost afraid. The man cupped his face gently, thumb rubbing a small circle against Cas's cheekbone, and the star couldn't believe what was happening. "I...I told you to give me a sign," he whispered, his lips barely moving.

"And risk you being too afraid to tell me the truth?" Dean smiled slyly, and his hand dropped from's Cas's face to wrap around his waist and pressing them closer together, the star's arms caught between and his hands splayed across Dean's chest. Cas was wide-eyed and there were goosebumps across his bare skin exposed to the cold, but he barely noticed as Dean rested his forehead against Cas's own, and murmured, "You want to know what Bobby really said to me this morning? He told me my true love was right in front of my eyes...and he was right."

And that was when Cas thanked his fellow stars above that he realised he'd stopped breathing about thirty seconds ago and sucked in air quickly, because then Dean kissed him and he quite forgot about anything else. The man's lips were rough, drier than he'd imagined but loving, and Cas had no idea how to kiss but he responded, he know he did, because kissing Dean was subconscious and natural and he never wanted it to stop. As Dean's tongue slipped into his mouth Cas accidentally gasped, and Dean smiled as the star's arms slid around his neck, pulling him closer, bare chest against fabric, kissing him harder and tangling his fingers in Dean's short hair. And he kept kissing him, not caring about air or annoying innkeepers or the ghost of a third-born prince hanging outside their window which neither of them knew was there - "Guys, you have to see this! They're gaying it up!" "Oh my god, Gabriel, you're such a pervert!" - because as far as Dean was concerned, right now everything was Castiel and he was planning on keeping it that way for the next few hours.

* * *

 Castiel knew he was tense, but it was because some ultimately celestial part of him was afraid. Afraid to relax and give into these human emotions that threatened to overwhelm him and pull him under. He hadn't been ready for this, could never have been ready for these feelings of need and _want_ and  close and **more** and he was scared it was a dream, that at any moment he would wake up and be back in Ruby's coach with Dean still painfully mouse in a box in his lap. Even worse, he would wake up to find himself in the sky, having never fallen and instead imagined the existence of a sarcastic, annoying and utterly perfect half-Faerie named Dean Winchester who was right now trailing kisses along the star's navel and murmuring unintelligible words of affection into his skin. Cas was so terrified that it was not real that even as he tipped his head back in the pillow and moaned Dean's name, he rested on the edge of all control and complete loss of it, moving towards neither.

It wasn't until Dean was above him again, his lips brushing against that star's ear as he whispered, "let go, Cas," that Cas fell for the third time, the first being literally to Earth and the second being in love, now forgetting all restraint and completely, irreversibly letting go into the arms of the man he loved. As Cas hooked his legs around Dean's hips, head buried in his shoulder, his last conscious thought was the hope that Dean wouldn't confirm his fears.

He didn't.


	15. Interrupted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know why I thought posting this so soon after 9x03 was a good idea, but I think i need a distraction from EZEKIEL WHY. Also, song of this chapter is You by The Pretty Reckless - oh hey look, that's also 9x03! ~violent sobbing~  
> In other news, enjoy!

"Ironic, isn't it?" Balthazar mused as they sat on the inn roof, watching the first sunbeams turn the clouds pink. He was styling his own hair absentmindedly.

"What is?" Raphael asked.

"Lucifer will get here soon, find the boy, get the ruby and be king forever."

"What, and the star finally got some?"

"Well..basically, yes," Balthazar frowned.

"Not really very fair," Michael agreed, scratching his neck where the skin split.

"Still, at least we'll be free," Uriel said, trying to be positive.

"Yes, free to become stars like that one below us," Gabriel laughed joylessly. "Another one of those wonderful advantages to being Faerie."

"Do you think we'll ever fall?" Raphael wondered.

"Hopefully not," Michael replied. "I wonder if we can. I mean, the star downstairs was never human in the first place, was he?"

"He's the north star apparently, so probably not," Uriel confirmed.

"So the rest of existence with my brothers, no escape and nothing to do except watch humans." Michael made a vomit noise, and Raphael jabbed him with his tibia.

"At least we won't have to be there while Lucy's king forever," Balthazar grinned, and his brothers had to laugh.

* * *

Dean woke suddenly, blinking in the early morning light and confused as to what had roused him. He moved his hands to cover his eyes from the sunlight, but one of them was caught and Dean looked down to see Castiel curled up next to him, arms wrapped around his waist and head in the crook of his shoulder. Dean relaxed and smiled, letting his hand drop as he watched Cas sleep, chest rising and falling gently. He was glowing again, that strange beautiful bright light that softened and grew in time with his breathing. Yes, Dean could definitely get used to this.

Then Dean remembered what day it was, and had to stop himself from shouting, "Crap!" and waking up his star. He resigned himself to rubbing his chin in desperation, then easing him arm out from underneath Cas (feeling a rush of love when Cas rolled over and muttered Dean's name) and leaning down to kiss his forehead gently. Then he rushed to dress, trying to be quiet as he holstered his guns and pulled his coat on. He picked up the Daemon knife from where it had slid under the dresser, moving closer to Cas and using the tip of the knife to cleanly slice off a lock of the star's dark hair and wrap it in a tissue he found in his bag.

"I'll be back, Cas," he murmured, even though the star couldn't hear him, then left, shutting the door behind.

Downstairs, Dean rung the bell that lay on the counter several times, stopping when he heard a thump from the innkeeper's room. Sure enough, a middle-aged man in a dressing gown poked his head out, glaring.

"What?" He saw Dean leaning impatiently against the counter and sighed. "What do you want?"

"Hey," Dean smiled, saluting with two fingers. "Can I have a pen and paper?"

"Ask me again when it's not the crack of dawn," the man replied gruffly, and was about to shut the door when Dean stood up and said quickly, "No, I can't, seriously. Look, if the guy I was with wakes up before I get back, please can you give him a message?"

The man sighed and walked out of the room, resting his elbows on the counter and putting his head in his hand. "Go on."

Dean left his message and thanked the innkeeper before leaving and rushing down the street quickly, boots clattering against the cobblestones. There was barely anyone up at this time, but he didn't feel alone as he neared the outskirts of Campbell and saw the wall in a field nearby. If he had looked around, he would have seen five ghostly shapes following him curiously, one of them eating from a bag of equally transparent sweets, but Dean continued to hurry towards to the wall, grateful that no-one guarded it this side.

The wall was a mile away, and even at his pace it took Dean a good ten minutes to make it there. As he jumped the gap, he nearly crashed into Rufus Turner, who had was pacing in front of the wall expectantly - there'd been commotion in Stormhold for days, he'd sensed it, and he was just waiting for something to happen. However, he was not expecting an eighteen-year-old dressed like a classy pirate to come hurtling through the gap, of all people, and he only just stopped himself from crashing to the floor by grabbing his chair.

"What the-" Rufus started, and as the man brushed himself down and apologised, Rufus stared. "Dean? Dean Winchester?"

"Yeah, sorry, I didn't-"

"How the holy hell did you end up on that side of the wall, boy?" Rufus was dumbstruck. He was sure he'd sent Dean away with a bruise and a fair warning last week.

"Long story," Dean shrugged, and winked at Rufus before walking away. "Sorry again!"

Rufus watched the young man hurry towards Wall, frowning. There was something different about him, not just the clothes: Dean walked taller, spoke confidently, and generally exuded an air of experience that was so much different from the awkward teenager he'd met seven days ago. Rufus blinked, unsure what could have brought on such a change, but decided to leave it at the conclusion that no-one should be so happy at this time in the morning.

* * *

Even though he didn't know it, it was just over ten minutes after Dean left the inn that Castiel began to stir. He woke up slower, still incredibly drowsy and a little drunk on happiness and warmth and sex, a mixture he felt could definitely be put in the advantages of falling. However, wake up he did, and as he shifted his head in the pillow and smile softly to himself, he muttered, "I believe that's the first time I've slept properly at night..."

He knew something was wrong before he finished the sentence, and Cas was suddenly aware he was alone in the bed. He sat up, immediately opening his eyes without needing to adjust and looking around. "Dean?"

There were no sounds from the bathroom, and no-one in the bedroom, and as Cas looked around he saw Dean's clothes that had been scattered on the floor were gone as well. A sour taste in his mouth, Cas wrapped the sheet around him and stood up. "Dean!"

There was no response.

Castiel pulled on his clothes haphazardly, his heart beating a mile a minute and desperately trying not to imagine the worst. He left his tie undone around his neck and stuck his arms in the trenchcoat as he exited, pausing for a moment to tuck his blade in the sleeve. He forced himself to walk slowly down the stairs, as if somehow that would convince him he was overreacting. Dean had gone to get breakfast, Dean had met someone and got talking, Dean had...Dean had...

Cas arrived in the reception flustered and worried despite his best efforts, and hurried to the counter where the innkeeper was slumped, yawning.

"Have you seen my..." Cas started, but he trailed off when he wasn't sure what to refer to Dean as. He felt like 'friend' was hardly applicable anymore, but he sensed the word 'lover' was likely to make him uncomfortable, so he settled in between. "Have you seen my partner?"

The innkeeper frowned at him. "The tall one, with the..." the man mimed a duck's tail fringe, and Cas nodded. "He left absurdly early."

"He left?" Cas pressed his lips together, feeling his hand clench.

"Yes, told me to tell you..." The innkeeper stopped to yawn again, and Cas had to restrain himself from shaking the man violently before he finished and continued, "...said he's gone to see some girl called...Lea?"

"Lisa," Cas whispered.

"Yes, her. He's gone to see Lisa, because he's sorry and and he's going to spend the rest of his life with his real true love." The man scratched his head and sniffed, unaware of the effect his words had just had on the star.

"Are you sure?" Cas asked, his voice strangled.

"Positive," the man nodded, and then he saw the expression on Cas's face. "Hey, are you alright?"

Cas ignored him completely, wandering out of the inn in shellshock. He felt like his stomach had been twisted into a lot of tiny knots then dropped out of his body without warning, and as he walked down the street he remembered his fear from last night, how he given himself up to Dean and the man had- Cas couldn't even think about it without his throat choking up, and he cursed this petty human need to breathe. While he was at it, he cursed humans, and he cursed breathing, and love and this stupid crystal around his neck that had made him fall in the first place and he wished it could just all stop, just for a moment. He walked on, feeling the pull of the wall distinctly northward, cursing his sense of direction that had put him at such importance in Dean's life before they'd even known each other. Because of course he was going to the wall, because even though he could feel his heart breaking, his damned important heart that he'd given away to someone who didn't even want it, he'd given it away and he still wanted answers, he needed to hear Dean tell him that it was true because somewhere along the line, he'd become so human he'd picked up an addiction to self-destruction that made him want to see Dean one more time.

* * *

Dean had just entered Wall, hurrying past his own house with barely a glance and passing through the town square on his way to the Braedens'. He couldn't resist giving the finger to his old shop, however, and burst into laughter at Zachariah's shocked face in the window as he speed-walked away. He was still chuckling as he arrived at Lisa's house, and as he knocked on the door he leaned against the wall, tapping his foot.

A few moments later, the door opened to a flustered Lisa, still in her pyjamas and her hair in a messy ponytail. Dean looked at her, and for a second there was a spark of old infatuation, but then Lisa's smile dropped and she practically glared at Dean. He blinked, affronted, wondering if she'd always looked at him like that, but didn't let it show and instead gave her a winning smirk.

"Happy birthday."

"Dean..." Lisa trailed off, and he watched her take in his clothes and his newly sun-bleached hair with just a hint of disbelief. "What happened to you?"

"I found the star," Dean grinned, and took a casual step towards her.

"You...I can't believe you did it," Lisa murmured, and then she laughed and moved towards Dean. "Really?"

"Really."

"Well, where is it? Can I see it?" Lisa almost demanded, though her sweet smile was still on her face. But Dean wasn't fooled anymore. He began to shuffle painfully slowly through his bag while Lisa pursed her lips and wrapped her arms around herself against the cool dawn.

"Is it beautiful?" she asked, and Dean thought of Cas's endlessly blue eyes.

"Yes. Very."

He finally pulled out the tissue and handed it to her, gauging her reaction. Lisa turned the tissue over in her hand, frowning. "Well, it's kind of small."

"That's just a bit of it," Dean explained. "Sort of a token. For your birthday."

"Oh. Okay," Lisa nodded, and then smiled at Dean, her so easily recognisable mischievous look back in her eyes. "Well, forget about the star. It's not the star I want," she murmured, and she moved closer to Dean, her hand sliding gently over his shoulder. "You know what I want."

"Yes, I do," Dean smirked, unimpressed. He humoured her a moment, also allowing the desperate sixteen-year-old within him the satisfaction of putting his hands on Lisa Braeden's waist and pulling her a little nearer. Then he raised an eyebrow and deadpanned, "You want to grow up and get over yourself, Lisa."

"What-" Lisa stopped, confused, and Dean stepped away from her, slightly saddened but ultimately pleased. He turned to leave and saw someone else standing in his way, someone who he'd actually been hoping to run into.

"Gordon."

"Winchester," Gordon narrowed his eyes at Dean, his eyes flicking between him and the still frozen Lisa behind him. After a tense moment, however, he shrugged and flexed his left hand. "You must have a death wish if-"

"Oh, cut the crap," Dean waved a hand and sidestepped to avoid Gordon. "I'm not going to fight you."

"Why, have you finally realised you're a pathetic loser who won't ever be good enough for her?" Gordon smirked, moving towards Lisa. "Because you'd be right."

Dean stopped walking away, feeling his happy mood slowly meld away into anger. He pulled his handgun from the holster and turned, aiming, watching the smugness fade from Gordon's expression swiftly. "You know what, Gordon?" Dean said calmly, but there was a steel edge, "Maybe I am all of those things. But right now, I'm also a pathetic loser who could blow your brains out, with or without a gun. So why don't you just let me wish the best to you both and be on my way, even though I really don't mean it and in fact what I want to say is that you'll make a perfect couple of assholes. Are we clear?"

Dean watched Gordon glare at him, his hands balled into fists. "You wouldn't shoot that."

Dean clicked off the safety deliberately slowly. "You want to take that risk?"

Gordon hesitated, then looked back at Lisa, who was staring at Dean with slight fear. Dean paused for effect, then smoothly reset and re-holstered the gun, spinning it around his finger with a flourish. He gave them a small salute, then turned and began to walk away, thoroughly satisfied with how that had gone.

He had barely taken five steps however, when he heard Lisa's voice behind him. "Why would I want this anyway? It's just a tissue of stardust!"

* * *

**Before  
** Mary had been dozing in the front of Ruby's caravan where it was parked in front of the Slaughtered Prince when she saw the star from the day before walk down the street. She knew he was a star of course - her Faerie intuition had told her of it, just as he had looked at the man he was with and known it was her son. She saw herself in him, in his features and in the Faerie blue he'd inherited from her in his eye, and she had done all she could to stop Ruby from enchanting him but the Daemon had transformed her after she'd tried to escape again. Now, Mary was half-dreaming about her son, Dean, and what he could have possibly done to be tangled up with a star in Campbell, when she saw that same star wandering past, his trenchcoat half-on and his face emotionless.

Mary sat up properly, alert, and watched him intently. It was early, and Ruby was still asleep inside the coach after her night in the bar, and though she knew stars didn't sleep at night there was something about him that made her wary. Mary reached out with her magic, turning the star's emotions into colours that surrounded him like an aura, and she winced at the dark crimsons of pain and suffering, laced with pale green of betrayal. She let the colours fade, unwilling to see any more, and then looked past the star to see where he was heading - the wall.

Mary sat up, aware that the star had no idea what he was doing. "Hey! Wait!" The star paid no attention to her, continuing his journey without even seeming to hear. Mary looked around and pulled at the chain around her wrist angrily, preventing her from leaving. Then she looked back at Ruby, still curled up in the caravan and snoring gently. Mary sighed and then looked towards the star just disappearing around the corner, and snapped her fingers. The coach literally jumped, a few inches in the air, then began rattling down the street, Mary pumping magic into it to go faster and chasing after the star wildly.

* * *

**Now  
** Dean looked back, eyes widening, and saw glitter gently streaming out of the tissue into a pile on the ground where Lisa was looking, disgusted. He felt a stab of fear as he ran forward and pulled the tissue from her hand, ignoring the protests.

"Cas?" he murmured, and shook the tissue to reveal no hair. Then he looked back, towards Stormhold, as the realisation came with sickening force, and as soon as he knew it he was running, running towards the gap as fast as he could to try and get to his star before he got to him because-

"He can't cross the wall."


	16. Stalemate

Michael, Raphael, Gabriel, Uriel and Balthazar were hanging around the gap in the wall, unable to cross and unsure about what Dean thought he was doing, when they saw the star enter the field. He was walking directly to the gap, and as the siblings frowned at each other, someone else came hurtling through the gate a few metres behind, in a faded caravan and shouting at the star.

"Stop!" Mary cried desperately, seeing how close the star was getting. "Please, stop!" She jumped down from the caravan and ran towards the star, the coach rattling behind her with Ruby being jolted violently inside. Mary feared she wasn't going to make it, and she was so preoccupied with the star that she didn't see five of her brothers floating close by, staring at her in shock. However, just in time, she grabbed hold of the star's arm and pulled him back, just as his foot was about to go over.

Castiel stumbled, and blinked up at the woman who had dragged him away from the wall. He had no idea where she had come from, but she looked very flustered as she gasped, "If you go through there, you'll die!"

"Excuse me?" Cas frowned. He had no time to explain to her why he was going through; however, what she had said stopped him.

"If you set foot on human ground, you'll turn into rock," Mary told him, guiding him towards the caravan. She still didn't notice her dead siblings, who were about to call out to her when they saw another coach rumble through the gate, which they recognised as Michael's. Mary didn't see that either, because as she approached the caravan Ruby walked out of it, rubbing her eyes and glaring.

"Where have you brought me, you little bitch?" Ruby snapped, a combination of a hangover and multiple bruises making her incredibly grouchy. She looked around and saw the wall. "Planning to escape into the human realm?"

Mary struggled for an explanation and gestured to the star, who recognised Ruby from yesterday and realised this was probably the Mary she had mentioned. Cas didn't really care, however - he just wanted to see Dean, and if it killed him, so what? He couldn't even be bothered to tell Mary that Ruby couldn't see him, and as he looked away blankly he saw Michael's coach pull up beside them.

The door flung open and Crowley walked out, hands stuck casually in his pockets and smirking at Castiel. He was now wearing a smart black suit, his vessel irreparably damaged, and Cas stared at him.

"If death was what you wanted, honey, I'd be more than happy to assist you," the Original Daemon offered.

Cas considered, then looked back at Mary. She started to shake her head quickly, begging him with her hazel and blue-shot eyes not to go. Then Ruby climbed down to the ground and her brow knitted in confusion. "Are you talking to me?"

Crowley looked at her, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, it's you. Small world." He rolled his eyes and turned away from Ruby, putting the lesser Daemon below him. "I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to the star." He smiled at Castiel again and held out a hand, summoning him forward. Ruby misinterpreted and made a face at Mary.

"What star? Mary isn't a star, she's Faerie. Any idiot could see that," Ruby laughed. "If she was, I'd have had the heart out of her chest long ago, trust me."

Crowley's expression changed to one of annoyance, and turned to Ruby angrily. "Trust you? Not a mistake I'm going to make again." He took his hand out his pocket and unsheathed his celestial blade from his sleeve, pointing it at Ruby. "What's it to be, Ruby? Exorcism or the knife?"

Ruby's eyes widened and flickered black, and she was just about to take a step back when Crowley swung the knife around swiftly, slicing through her neck. Ruby froze, and then a thin line of red beads appeared around her throat, and her head toppled to the ground, her body following afterwards. Crowley nudged it with his foot disgustedly.

"You should never have bound yourself to that body," he spat. "Now you're as good as dead."

Mary felt a twinge at her wrist, and looked down to see the silver chain wriggle, then burst into magic that faded away slowly. She was free, but there was no happiness as she heard Crowley announce, "Time to go, star."

"He's not going anywhere," Mary replied, trying to pull Castiel closer to herself, but he was too strong for her and stood still, watching Crowley, who grinned.

"I think you'll find he is," the Daemon walked towards his coach and held open the door, inviting Castiel inside. "Come on. If you want to die, at least be useful for once in your pathetic human life."

Castiel looked down at the ground, remembering how he'd once been told he was special for saving someone's life. But that person was gone now, and he didn't care, and he probably had never meant it. Cas shook Mary off easily and walked towards Crowley, giving the Original Daemon a glare before entering. Even though he was broken, it didn't mean he didn't hate him.

Crowley just ushered him inside and looked back at Mary, who was clenching her fists in anger and pain. "You can come, too," he suggested. "But hurry up, because either you're in the carriage or being dragged behind it." He climbed in and waited.

Mary was torn: she didn't want to leave the star alone, but she also didn't want to face an Original Daemon head-on with no backup. She wondered where Dean had gone, and what had happened to send Castiel on his suicide mission. Then she saw Crowley reach out to shut the door, and she made her mind up. As she walked towards the coach, she heard someone call her name, and paused to look around.

There, near the wall, were five of her brothers, ghostly transparent and in various forms of manslaughter. Gabriel had been the one to call her, and now he gestured for her to come nearer. "Don't go, Mary!"

Mary shook her head slowly, saddened by seeing her siblings for the first time in twenty years, dead. Instead, she gave them a small smile and murmured, "Get help!" before stepping into Crowley's coach and shutting the door.

Gabriel slumped as the coach was pulled away by magic, and looked at his brothers angrily. "What the hell do we do? Mary's alive, the star's friggin' suicidal and they're both in Crowley's hands! And where did Dean go?"

"We need to get Lucifer," Raphael muttered, still watching the coach disappear around the corner. He looked at his brothers and sighed. "He's the only one who can help Mary! We can't get to Dean in the human realm."

"Where is Lucy anyway? He should have been here by now," Balthazar wondered. <\p>

"Probably stopped for the night," Michael said, still thrown by the sight of his sister. "Look, it doesn't matter. We need to find him."

"But what about Dean?" Uriel pointed out. "He has no idea what happened."

"I'll wait here for him," Balthazar waved a hand, shifting his head into the crook of his arm. "We'll come and find Crowley together. I know where the gate to Hell is."

"Okay," Gabriel nodded, and then him, Uriel, Raphael and Michael dissipated into air, searching for Lucifer in the country outside Campbell. Balthazar looked through the gap and sighed.

"I can't believe I'm helping these idiots."

* * *

Dean jogged up to the wall to see Rufus peering through the gap, then throw his hands in the air and sit on his chair, arms crossed and shotgun thrown to the ground.

"What happened?" Dean panted, relieved not to see Castiel anywhere near.

"Hell if I know," Rufus said dispassionately. He looked at Dean and shrugged. "You want to cross? Be my guest, kid."

"What do you mean?" Dean frowned, and looked around.

"Years I've stopped you people getting out," Rufus lamented, picking up a bottle from the ground and unstopping it. "When all this time, I should've been worrying about those bastards on the other side coming in."

"Okay, tell me who crossed, now!" Dean demanded, worried.

"No-one crossed!" Rufus shouted back at him, taking a drink angrily. "But this guy in a trenchcoat nearly did, and then-"

"Did he go over?!"

"No!" Rufus spat. "Some woman stopped him. But I quit, do you hear me?"

Dean heard him, but he didn't care anymore. He was just happy that Castiel hadn't crossed, and he jumped through the gap before Rufus had even finished. He landed on the other side and his eyes widened as he saw Ruby's body spread-eagled next to him, her head lying on its side nearby.

"What the-"

"Dean!" The man whirled around to see Balthazar hovering near the wall, his head nearly falling out of his arms.

"Balthazar? What are you-"

"There isn't much time," the dead prince explained, and started walking away. Dean hurried to catch up with him. "The short version is, my sister was kidnapped about twenty years ago and we all thought she was dead, but it turns out she was alive and captured by this Daemon called Ruby who needs an attitude adjustment. So she-"

"Hey!"

"-was in Campbell at the same time as you were, and you cleared off this morning for some reason, leaving your little star alone and now he's super depressed and tried to cross the wall, but my sister stopped him, and then Crowley turned up-"

"Crowley? Look, I said hey!"

"So you did. Good for you. Dean, this is important! Crowley turned up and Castiel went with him because he's got a death wish a mile long now, well done on that by the way, and my sister is with them and she told us to send help and now my brothers are finding Lucifer and I pulled the short straw so I'm helping you get to the warehouse where your boyfriend's heart is going to be cut out if you don't hurry up!"

Balthazar finished in a rush, and he was now running (as well as he could, being a spirit and therefore not of this dimension) with Dean alongside him, trying to keep up physically and verbally.

"So...Cas is in danger?" Dean focused on the bit that made sense, and scared him the most.

"If you bothered to listen there was more to it," Balthazar shot back. "But yes. Whatever gets you moving, Short Straw."

"I'm moving!" Dean snapped. "Where is this warehouse anyway?"

"Um..." Balthazar muttered a figure, his running faltering slightly, and Dean stared at him.

"I can't run friggin' _miles!_ How is he getting there?"

"He has my sister with him, and she's Faerie like us, so she's giving him a boost. The other Original Daemon are probably there waiting for him."

"There's more of those mothers? You're kidding me."

"Sadly no. Look, you're going to have to use your magic," Balthazar stopped suddenly, and looked at Dean. "I know you have no idea how to use your Faerie powers, but-"

"I do, actually," Dean slowed as well, and licked his lips awkwardly. "Cas did something with his star power and now I can handle my magic easier."

"What did he do?" Balthazar frowned, then raised an eyebrow. "It wasn't some kinky sex thing, was it?"

"What-" Dean started, then he widened his eyes and blushed deeply. "How did you-were you-no! It wasn't! He carved friggin' symbols in my ribs!"

"Ah, in Enochian?" Balthazar mused, and then rolled his eyes at Dean, who was still spluttering. "We were keeping tabs on you, Short Straw. Now, if you can use your magic, you'll have to Travel to the warehouse."

"But I'm not powerful," Dean explained, pushing all thoughts of dead men watching him and Cas from his mind and instead focusing on the situation. "Whatever this Traveling is, I don't even know if I can do it."

"Well, you'll just have to try," Balthazar sighed. "Look, I'll help you..."

It took eight precious minutes for Dean to nail Traveling, and even then he only managed it in short spurts, about three miles each time. After each Travel, he staggered and needed a few minutes for his magic to recharge, and Balthazar tapped his foot impatiently, worried about Mary. But eventually, Dean fell to his knees outside a large concrete building tucked into the side of a hill, and looked at the black coach resting outside.

"Is that Crowley's?" he whispered to Balthazar, who nodded. Dean stood up and edged towards the door, pulling out his gun. Just as he came close, he felt Balthazar's hand pass through his shoulder (making him shiver) and looked back to see another carriage pulling up. It jerked to a halt, the horses standing tall to attention, and then the door slid open and a man jumped out, blonde and carrying a pistol. Five ghosts flew out of the carriage behind him, and Dean recognised them as the other princes, Michael among them. Which made this man-

"Lucifer!" Balthazar hissed next to him, and rushed to join his siblings. "They told you what happened?"

"Who's this?" Lucifer frowned at Dean, looking him over and pointing his pistol towards the man. "You're Faerie. What are you doing here?"

"I'm Dean Winchester," Dean announced, and pulled out his own shotgun to aim at Lucifer warily. "And I might ask you the same question."

There was a stalemate, and the ghosts looked on unimpressed. Then they both looked up as there was a crash from inside, and Lucifer rolled his eyes and dropped his hand.

"Look, there are three Daemon in there. If we work together, we could stand a chance," he suggested.

"Awesome. Because I totally know that I can trust you," Dean countered.

"Of course you can't," Lucifer smiled slyly. "But do you have a choice?" Dean hesitated. "Then let's go." Lucifer gestured to the ghosts, and they all immediately faded away.

"Where are they?" Dean asked and they moved closer to the warehouse door.

"They'll be waiting inside," Lucifer whispered back, and then he moved quick past the door to stand on the other side, back to the wall. Dean mirrored his position, and just as he was about to burst in Lucifer held out a hand.

"You know we won't be able to kill them, don't you?"

"Lucky I have this then," Dean smirked, and reached into his boot to pull out Ruby's knife. He turned it into the light, letting Lucifer see the symbols.

"The Daemon knife? How did you get that?" Lucifer looked taken aback.

"I knew a girl," Dean said casually, then holstered his shotgun and held up the Daemon knife, ready to attack. "Shall we?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have weaknesses and they come in the form of blonde-haired sarcastic British angels. I am only human. We're so close to the end, this is so exciting! Thanks for reading!


	17. Climax

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait on this instalment, I went on holiday. The song for this chapter is Part II by Paramore, and I hope you all really like this penultimate one as it's the biiiiig fight scene. Enjoy!

Crowley made it to the warehouse in just over twenty minutes, which was impeccable timing, all things considered. He had commanded the slave girl, Mary, to use her Faerie magic to drive the coach, while he watched the star opposite him stare out of the window, unseeing. This annoyed Crowley - he was quiet and barely shining, and that meant he wasn't at full power. But there was nothing he could do about it, and as they pulled up in front of the building, Crowley decided to just be glad this whole crazy journey was over.

The Daemon pushed the star and Mary ahead of him, and flicked one hand so the doors banged open. As Crowley strolled in, two people looked up from where they had been lighting candles around a large stone altar. He could see their true faces, and knew immediately that they were his brother and sister, but he still raised an eyebrow at their choice of vessel: Lilith had taken a small, blonde girl in a white dress similar to her usual one, and Azazel was inhabiting was tall, thickset bald man with heavy eyebrows.

"Hello honey, I'm home," Crowley announced, and gestured to the star and Mary.

"Finally," Lilith sighed, and her voice was high-pitched and almost comically childish. However, the authority in it was unmistakeable, and she walked towards to the star and smiled sweetly. "You must be the star. It's nice that you can along willingly in the end - it makes this whole process much easier," Lilith smirked, and then turned to Mary, frowning. "What's this? Faerie? Crowley, what were you thinking?" She rounded on him, glaring, and Crowley waved his hand.

"She's a slave, and so far she hasn't been very bright," he explained. "But it will be nice to have someone to help mop up after we've finished with...our little guest," Crowley finished as he patted Castiel on the shoulder. The star watched him emotionlessly, while Mary grimaced and looked around, wondering where her brothers had gone. Lilith nodded and gestured to Castiel. "Well, let's get started." Crowley pulled Castiel towards the altar, pushing him down and the two of them began to use the leather straps to hold him. Meanwhile, Azazel grabbed Mary and pulled her to the side of the warehouse, where a few rusty chains hung. Mary began to struggle, shouting at the Daemon.

"Let go of me! Get off!"

"Shut her up, please," Lilith called over to them without looking away from the star, who so far had been complacent and was making her suspicious. Azazel tapped Mary on the head, and her lips glued themselves together. She made muffled noises, and then in one last ditch attempt to help Castiel, broke one hand free and snapped her fingers.One of the candelabras flew in the air and sped towards Crowley, who looked up and raised his arm just in time to deflect it. It clanged off and hit the ground with a crash, the candle snuffing out and Crowley hissing in pain.

Azazel slapped Mary across the face and grabbed her wrist, using the chains to wrap around her arms and lock them together.

"Those are iron. Try and use your magic now, little Faerie," he teased, and then laughed and walked towards his siblings.

"He's very quiet," Azazel commented, looking down at where Castiel was now strapped to the table. Lilith slowly began to undo his shirt, narrowing her eyes at his blank expression.

"The last star was never this cooperative," she commented, and that finally sparked a reaction from Castiel, who looked surprised.

"The last star?"

"Sure," Crowley said, as he picked up a long machete from the altar and tested it against his thumbnail. "She fell about four hundred years ago, and she was a fighter, can I tell you."

"Anna..." Castiel murmured, and glared at them. "You killed her!"

"You knew her?" Lilith laughed, and trailed one small fingernail in a circle above Castiel's heart. "That's adorable. Her heart was-"

But Lilith never finished her sentence, because then the doors crashed open and the Original Daemon and Castiel looked around to see Lucifer and Dean, weapons pointing forward and marching towards them. Dean's eyes flicked to Castiel, lying on the altar and staring wide-eyed at the man, and his blood ran cold; if he'd taken just thirty more seconds, it would have been too late. Lucifer, on the other hand, had noticed someone else in the room, and froze.

"Mary? Is that really you?"

Mary threw herself towards Lucifer, trying to talk to him but unable to. Dean looked at the two of them, confused, but then Azazel said, "Oh for God's sake," and flicked his hand at Lucifer, who was thrown off his feet and hit the wall with a crunch, sliding down next to Mary. Dean shouted, and turned towards Azazel, raising the Daemon knife. Azazel went to throw him backwards, but Dean got there first, snapping his fingers and knocking the Daemon over. He jumped back to his feet quickly, eyes filling with yellow, and charged at Dean angrily. The man began to block his fast blows, trying to get the Daemon knife in but unable to find an opening.

"Dean!" Castiel cried, and started struggling against his bonds. Crowley and Lilith quickly began to start the ritual, using the machete to slice open their palms and draw sigils on the star's chest. However, just as Crowley finished his symbol, he felt the knife fly out of his hand and clatter to the floor, and the two of them were hit by a gust of wind which sent them backwards and landing in the gateway circle. They looked up to see Lucifer and Mary with their hands out, he having freed her and lifted the magic on her mouth. Lilith howled and Traveled in front of them, half of her tiny vessel immediately blistering and causing her to stagger in pain. Lucifer took this chance to shoot her, the bullet blasting through her tiny shoulder and knocking her back. Mary meanwhile rushed to Castiel and began to undo the straps before Crowley got up and attacked them.

Dean was still fighting Azazel, having gained a more even footing and managing to sink a few punches into the Daemon's face. Azazel took a step back, clutching his cheek with one hand, and held out the other to begin a spell, the first word of the chant on his lips. Dean moved in while the Daemon was vulnerable, and grabbed his hand to pull him close, cutting off the spell and plunging the knife into Azazel's stomach. Azazel's veins lit up with flashes of fire, and then Dean pulled the knife out and the Daemon fell to the ground, choking and bright light burning from his eyes and mouth. Then with a few cracking sounds, Azazel's head rolled backwards and he was still.

Dean was breathing hard, but there was no time to stop as he looked up and saw Crowley picking up the machete from the ground and pulling his arm back to throw it at Castiel and the woman helping him up.

"Look out!" Dean shouted, and automatically Traveled to Crowley, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back despite a rush of dizziness. His elbow crunched into Crowley's head, and the Daemon slumped, dazed. Dean dropped him and ran to the altar.

"Cas!" Dean grabbed the star by the arms and looked him over, giddy with relief. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Cas replied, still looking at Dean with disbelief.

"You should leave," Dean insisted, and looked at the woman, who was watching them with a loving expression.

"You too...you're Mary, right?"

"Dean..." Mary smiled. "I've waited so long to meet you."

"You have?" Dean frowned, but before she could explain they heard a cackle and they whirled around to Lilith and Lucifer. The two had been fighting, and there were a few bulletholes right the way through Lilith's eight-year-old body, but she was standing and now her hand was out, holding Lucifer against the wall. The prince struggled, glaring at the Daemon with ice in his eyes, while she lifted him up and swung him round to hang in the middle of the room, a few feet above the ground.

"Go!" Dean pushed Mary and Castiel towards the door, and they started running past Lilith. But the Daemon was too fast, and her tiny hand flew out to freeze them where they were. Her vessel was slowly burning up, skin splitting inch by inch as she held the three in place, but she still grinned at Dean painfully.

"No!" Dean shouted, but then an arm clamped around his neck and held him back, and Crowley's voice hissed in his ear, "Hello boy, remember me?"

"Now what's it to be, Prince Charming? Quick or slow?" Lilith teased, twisting her hand so Lucifer choked more.

"Neither," Lucifer spat back, and snapped his fingers to produce a ball of flame. He threw it at Lilith, and the Daemon's eyes widened as she released her hold on Mary and Castiel and deflected the ball quickly. Dean saw where it was heading and in the last second, Traveled out of Crowley's grip to the star and the woman. Crowley had no time to move and the fireball engulfed him, and he fell back against the altar, clawing at his clothes.

"Come on," Dean whispered to them, and they started edging towards the door as Lilith hissed, "Now let's put out those flames, shall we?" She flicked her hand towards Crowley, and the fire burning him died immediately. Then she clenched her fists, lifting Lucifer by his arms high in the air, and dropping him to the ground when he nearly reached the roof. Mary froze, and turned towards her brother as he fell.

"Lucifer!" Lilith flicked her wrist and Lucifer's gun flew out of his hand into hers, and in an eerily similar way to how Lucifer killed the soothsayer, shot the prince three times. His body jerked and hit the concrete with a crash, but he was already dead, three holes through his head, chest and shoulder.

"No!" Mary sobbed, and it was only Dean grabbing her arm to pull her back that stopped her running towards Lilith in anger. She looked up to see her already dead brothers sitting on the beam above the door. Lucifer's ghost misted up next to them, and the seven of them stared at each other.

"How...who will be king?" Lucifer murmured, shocked.

"No-one..." Gabriel trailed off.

"So, we're this way...forever?" Michael asked.

"Look, this is all very touching, but let's end it, shall we?" Dean, Mary and Castiel looked around to see Lilith and Crowley advancing on them, their vessels' skin split and shining horribly. Their eyes were shining as well, red and white separately, and their fingertips crackled with the last few dregs of green magic.

"Get outside," Dean muttered to Castiel and Mary, and the star shook his head. He locked his hand in Dean's and moved closer.

"I'm not leaving without you," Cas said determinedly. Dean looked at him, recognising the stubbornness that had made the star so annoying in the first place, and now made Dean's heart ache with love for him.

"Okay," Dean nodded, and looked around at Mary. "What about you?"

"Dean..." she said again, and reached up to stroke his cheek gently. "My son..."

Dean's eyes widened, and he looked at the woman properly, and this time he saw the blue flickering through her hazel eyes, the blue that was perfectly replicated in his own. "...Mom?"

"Be the man I know you are," Mary murmured, smiling sadly, and then Traveled to join her brothers on the beam, curling up and watching the fight from above.

Dean blinked, then shook his head and turned to Lilith and Crowley, who were watching with their eyebrows raised. Squeezing Castiel's hand, Dean said, "Well, are you coming or not?"

"Sorry," Crowley said sarcastically, his blistered mouth grimacing. "We may be from Hell but that doesn't mean we don't have a little something called good manners."

"Pity," Dean deadpanned, and raised his Daemon knife. "You were just starting to grow on me." Next to him, Castiel held up his blade, and then the Daemon attacked.

Lilith went for Dean, while Castiel got Crowley. She was small and fast, and Dean saw immediately that combat would be no good, so he concentrated on deflecting her magic with the Daemon knife and in a split second of crazy intuition, he summoned small magical shields that lasted moments but did the job. Cas went for the attack, using his strength to the advantage and trying to stab Crowley with his blade, but the Daemon moved quickly and avoided his blows, sinking his foot into Cas's stomach and making him take a step back. Crowley grabbed the star by his necklace and pulled him forward with difficulty, but he had him and tried to press a shot of magic into his forehead. Cas threw himself away, however, the necklace snapping in Crowley's hand and he tossed it to the floor angrily before approaching Cas again.

Dean, meanwhile, finally found his opening. As Lilith stopped wasting her last magic on small flickers and instead began to chant a spell, she ducked under Dean's punch and whirled around, trying to face him as magic grew in a ball between her palms. However, Dean turned too, and in that moment everything suddenly became clear and sharp: he saw Crowley knocking Castiel's blade out of his hand and stamping on his shin, the star crying out; he saw the ghosts and Mary watching with appropriate 'oh's and 'ah's from the beam; and he saw Lilith, her hands occupied and her body unstable from the dive, hair thrown back and her tiny neck exposed perfectly.

Dean saw his own hand as well, the Daemon knife slicing through the air and connecting with Lilith's throat, feeling the jagged edge snapping through muscle and sinew like it was nothing. Lilith froze, the magic dying as she began to choke on her own blood. Flecks of it landed on Dean's hand as he finished the strike and pulled back, and the bright orange light flashed from the wound, as well as from her eyes and mouth. Her limbs lit up with the fire as well, extinguishing all of Lilith from the vessel and with a final gasp, the Daemon collapsed.

"No!" Crowley roared, and he dropped Castiel from where he had been holding him up. The star fell, clutching his broken shin, and Crowley staggered towards Lilith's broken child's body, falling to his knees and his voice cracking. "No..."

Dean stared at the lamenting Daemon, then rushed to Castiel where he was standing, holding his leg. "Here, Cas, I can try and fix it..."

"Don't...Dean...you're not...powerful enough..." Cas gasped, and then looked at the man. "Crowley...you need to..."

"Power...strength..." Crowley interrupted, and the two looked over to see him slumped on his knees next to Lilith. He glared at them, pain in his eyes. "What's the point of it now? My siblings are dead! Everything I cared about...gone..." Crowley's voice broke again and a tear actually fell, but one of blood from his broken vessel. He took a deep breath, then said, "Go."

Dean and Cas looked at each other, unsure, then Crowley roared, "Go!" Dean slung Castiel's arm over his shoulder and quickly headed for the door, past the bodies of Lilith, Lucifer and Azazel.

"Thank you, Dean," Cas murmured. "Next time, I won't-"

"Shut up. There's not going to be a next time," Dean replied, wary of how easily Crowley had let them go and suspicious. "Why did you give yourself up, Cas?"

"I thought-" Cas started, but suddenly the doors in front of them slammed shut loudly, and behind them, Crowley laughed cruelly. Dean and Cas turned to see the Daemon rising to his feet, blood starting to drip from his hairline and sleeves as his vessel tore itself apart. However, he still managed to take a step forward.

"Did you really think it would be that easy?"

"You son of a bitch..." Dean murmured, taking a step back and pulling Cas with him.

"I should thank you, Dean," Crowley smirked, his teeth bloodstained, but he still advanced on them, staggering. "After all, what use was his heart to me when it was broken? And now my siblings are finally dead, something I would have done myself a long time ago if they weren't so paranoid; now I can have it all to myself."

Crowley reached down and picked up Castiel's blade where it had skidded across the floor, adjusting it in a bloodied slippery grip. It was horrible to watch, as the splits in his skin increased, and he seemed to only be moving through sheer willpower alone. Dean grimaced, and he tightened his arm around Cas. Maybe he could Travel them away, but he had no idea if he could even take someone else with him, or if they would survive the journey. Maybe his mother-

Before Dean could finish the thought however, he suddenly felt Castiel straighten himself up quickly, hissing at the pain in his leg, and then he grabbed Dean by the lapels of his coat and pulled him close. Dean looked at Cas, face inches away, and saw determination in his blue eyes.

"Dean," Cas whispered quickly, as Crowley came ever closer, "hold me tight and shut your eyes."

"What? Why?" Dean asked, but wrapped his arms around the star' waist. Cas smiled then leaned up to Dean's ear and said quietly: "What do stars do?"

"I don't-"

" _Shine_."

_**FWOOM.** _


	18. Everlasting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are. Last chapter. I'd just like to say thanks to consultingdetectivesherlockh for bookmarking - you just got in there, well done - and of course, a massive thanks to everyone who read this story, followed it, commented on it, subscribed to it, cried over it, laughed over it...I appreciate your taking the time so much and encouraging me to write more. The song for this chapter, the only song it could be, is Long Live by Taylor Swift. All the songs for this story have been put into a playlist which you can find [here](http://8tracks.com/aburglarhobbit/fallen-in-every-way-imaginable). I have really enjoyed this. See you again soon!  
> Much love, stereophoenix

When Castiel had been the north star, he had not been special. On Earth maybe, he was considered a guide to ships and travellers, and used a compass for many a journey, but in the sky this role was more of a source of shame. Naomi had always told him how the speed he was travelling was ridiculously slow; Anna, before she had fallen and met her end with the Daemon, was adamant that she did not revolve around a lesser star, thank you very much, although she could be kinder to him when she felt like it; Hester had simply stopped talking every time Castiel came on the scene, not liking how he got more attention than she did, no matter how negative it was. Castiel had acquaintances in the sky, and even people who he could call comrades, but no friends. He was labelled as irregular, free-thinking and unimportant, and that was the end of that.

It was his love for Earth that had drawn him away from the other stars in the first place, sometime after man first began to walk on two legs. Homo sapiens had intrigued him, with their evolution moving to the next level, more than anything that had come before, and he had watched avidly over the next hundreds of years as they experienced and explored and multiplied. He found himself caring about them: when he had told Dean about the pain he had seen humanity put itself through, he was not exaggerating, because he had put himself through the pain as well for seeing it happen.

When he had found out humanity cared for him in return, it had pleased him beyond words; but as the teasing and rebuking increased, Castiel had tried to keep more of a low profile. Some nights, he had shone so little that he sensed the discomfort from the planet below, but he was too afraid to glow bright. Some nights however, when there had been less jokes than usual and Castiel had seen something on Earth that made him happy, he would shine as bright as he could, the love from humans fuelling his light.

When Castiel had been the north star, he had not been special. Now, after he had fallen, he had found more than friendship and talent; he had found love, in the most uncommon of places - in another man. Specifically, a man who had practically kidnapped him moments after he landed, dragged him through a forest, handcuffed him to a tree, sent them both into the middle of a storm and agreed to being thrown off the side of a sky ship for illusion's sake, all for a woman who as far as Castiel could see, was being a little unfair in terms of exchanges of affection. All of this should have made Castiel run as quickly as possible in the other direction, but the problem arose in that Dean had also protected him in the forest, searched for him when he wandered into Crowley's inn, tried to save him from a fire and an Original Daemon simultaneously, given him his own nickname, taught him how to dance, and opened himself up to the star, admitting to a deeper level of emotion and understanding and teaching Castiel that humans lie, especially for the things they care about. And because he was Castiel, the star who cared for humanity too much and always put the good before the bad, he had fallen in love with Dean because of these things, as quietly as falling asleep and and as powerfully as falling from the heavens.

And now, Castiel was going to use that love for Dean to save them both, because as the man had told him, that was what he was special for - and Dean's mother had not been lying when she said stars shine brightest when there was love in the world. As Cas rested his chin on Dean's shoulder, he relaxed and let himself _feel_ : feel the muscles in Dean's arms move under the skin as they tightened around him; feel Dean's warm breath on his neck, reminding him how alive they both were right now; feel Dean's heart beating next to his own, frantically fast with fear and desperation as Crowley raised the blade at the two of them; and of course, feel the pain shooting up his leg where the shinbone had snapped inward, splitting his flesh and beginning to bruise from internal bleeding. All of these things were so real, so here, that Castiel ached with their presence, the love and pain mixing together until he couldn't distinguish between them. He felt them both, and he felt them strongly, and he felt them as bright as he could.

The feeling took form, bursting from Castiel in a loud implosion of light that he could see through as clear as day (because what sort of star could be blinded?) He saw the light easily outshine the small candelabras, extinguishing their feeble glow and reaching past to reflect off the windows in the warehouse, increasing in intensity as it did. He watched the ghosts and Mary immediately dissipate/Travel away as the light sped towards them, filling every inch of the warehouse and still pouring from Castiel in a dizzy haze of emotion. And at last, he saw the light burn through Crowley, destroying what remained of his vessel and cutting his screams of fear short. For a moment, a writhing black mist escaped the vessel and tried to flee, shooting towards the door, but the light, Castiel's light, chased after it and won, slicing the mist into pieces and filling the space it had left behind.

Still Castiel shone, unable to close the floodgates and beginning to worry that he would destroy his own body and Dean's as well, who so far he had been protecting with his own small celestial power, although he was sure Dean was subconsciously adding his own Faerie magic. But the tide began to recede as Castiel regained his sense of being, drawing the starlight back in from all corners of the warehouse and letting the love lock itself back into his heart, his wonderful heart that was still beating because of Dean. The pain ebbed as well, to a dull throb in his shin that Castiel quickly fixed - healing was within his power, naturally. In a few moments, Cas had almost entirely faded, returning to his soft glow that he had had that morning after he woke up. Dean was still clinging to him, his eyes clamped shut, and Cas had to slowly lift his own head and loosen his grip before Dean got the message: _it's okay, my love, my Dean, we're safe now._

Dean's eyes opened, and he looked at Cas with those beautiful green and blue irises that were full of confusion and hope. He glanced around quickly, and Cas watched him work it out - Crowley was gone, dead, and the bodies of Azazel and Lilith had also burned away. Lucifer was still there, probably the last dregs of magic still in his Faerie body protecting him, but apart from that they were alone, and there was no more danger.

Dean's expression became elated, and he grinned at Castiel before kissing him passionately, still half-smiling and unable to stop. It wasn't the best of kisses, but neither of them cared because it was full of happiness and victory and from the person they loved. They were still kissing when Mary pushed the door open and her brothers walked in, looking around cautiously.

"So what, did they make out and kill Crowley with the power of flaming homosexuality or something?" Balthazar sniffed, blinking at the embracing couple and then turning away to inspect the Hellgate.

"He did what stars do best," Mary murmured lovingly, watching as Dean and Cas eventually separated, pressing their foreheads together and still caught up in each other. "He shone. No Daemon could survive an intense concentration of starlight like that, and his love was the most powerful fuel of all."

"Oh. So it actually was the power of flaming homosexuality," Gabriel nodded.

Mary sighed. "When did you all become so sassy? If I'd known how quickly wit would grow on you I'd never have let myself get captured."

"Oh Mary, you enjoyed it," Michael rolled his eyes and slung an transparent arm over his older sister's shoulders. "I mean, if Dean proves anything, you definitely didn't get bored while you were kidnapped."

While Mary tried to slap Michael and failed because her hand went through his shoulder, Dean muttered to Cas, "That was incredible. Why didn't you just do that earlier?"

"I couldn't have without you," Cas explained. "No star could shine with a broken heart." When Dean's brow knitted in question, Cas's eyes dropped as he admitted, "When the innkeeper gave me that message, I thought I'd lost you. I believed you'd gone back to Lisa and I..." Cas trailed off when he couldn't bring himself to say it, and Dean lifted his head slightly to press his lips against the star's forehead in assurance. Cas smiled, and then said, "But you came back."

"Of course I did," Dean rolled his eyes like it was obvious and moved his face closer to Castiel's own. "In case you haven't noticed yet, Cas, I'm kind of in love with you." Cas laughed giddily as he heard Dean say it for the first time, and he was about to kiss him again when something the ghosts said actually got through to them.

"On a serious note," Uriel boomed. "What about the kingdom? We're all dead. Stormhold has no heir." Cas pulled away from Dean a little to listen to the conversation and with a sigh, Dean dropped one of his arms from Cas's waist so they could be a part of it. However, his other hand still stayed on the small of the star's back as Mary said, "That's not necessarily true."

"What do you mean?" Samandriel asked, and for the first time since Mary had left, not one of his brothers silenced him.

Mary walked over to where the necklace still lay on the ground, abandoned and forgotten after Crowley snapped it from Castiel's neck. She picked it up and held it out to Dean, who blinked.

"Me?"

"Stormhold can only have a male heir," Mary explained as the ghosts looked on in surprise. "You're my son, Dean, meaning you're royal blood. If you don't believe me, touch the stone."

Dean gingerly took the crystal from his mother, and as his skin brushed it the crystal flooded red, becoming a ruby again and glittering in the sunlight. Dean turned it over, shocked.

"You mean...you're the new king?" Cas whispered almost reverently.

"He's the new king?" Michael, Raphael, Gabriel, Uriel, Balthazar, Samandriel and Lucifer all echoed, disbelieving. There was momentary silence, then Lucifer said, "So you're our...nephew?"

"I'm an uncle," Gabriel murmured, wide-eyed. "That's a responsibility I've had nightmares about."

"Yes, you've all made awesome uncles so far," Dean commented impatiently, still stuck on the whole royalty line. "So...I'm a king?"

"If you want to be," Mary said, and her brothers looked up from bickering over who was the best uncle.

"What do you mean, 'want to be'?" Raphael frowned. "There's hardly anyone else!"

"But he still has a choice," Mary said calmly, and placed her hand on Dean's where he held the ruby. "Dean, you have to do what is right to you."

Dean paused, thinking. Then he looked up at Cas, who was watching him with sincere belief in his eyes, belief in Dean and him making the right choice. Dean looked in the star's eyes, those blue eyes he loved so much, and knew he couldn't let Cas down, no matter what he did. There was a question in Dean's expression as they stared at each other, and Cas answered it with an almost imperceptible nod of his head: _Would you stay with me? - Forever._

So he said to his mother, without looking away from Cas, "Could Cas stay with me?"

"Of course," Mary said immediately, then added, "As long as you know you can't have children."

Dean frowned and looked at her, not sure whether to laugh or pity. "Mom, I do know how children work and it's kind of obvious Cas and I aren't exactly parent material, in more ways than one." Then Cas coughed and and Dean frowned. "What?"

"One of the first things I told you, Dean," Castiel murmured awkwardly. "Even if we could reproduce in more...conventional methods, if I was female, I can't. Star base code makes it impossible."

Dean continued frowning at him for a few more seconds, then he shrugged. "We'll adopt."

Cas, who had been waiting with bated breath for Dean to give him up for that, grinned with happiness and reached up to kiss him on the cheek. "Thank you."

"So are you taking the job, Dean?" Mary asked, an eyebrow raised and still holding Dean's hand gently.

"Well..."

* * *

"Presenting, His Royal Highness Dean Winchester Campbell Fitzgerald I of Stormhold, and his Royal Consort, Castiel Winchester!"

"Consort?" Castiel murmured out of the corner of his mouth as he waved shyly at the people cheering and clapping in the great hall.

"Sorry," Dean muttered back, grinning at his half-brother and -sister in the front row: Sam was clapping slowly, winking at him and Cas, and Jo was full-out shouting, jumping up and down with excitement. "I guess they didn't like having two kings."

"I suppose I can live with it," Cas said decidedly, pausing his hand to adjust his heavy circlet. "As long as I get a little more than my appropriate half of the wedding presents."

"It's a deal," Dean confirmed, and Cas's smiled widened as Dean squeezed his hand, feeling his new, and still slightly too big, ring press into his finger. He saw Captain Bobby Singer in the second row and spared a smile for the kind captain, and a few waves for his crew who were looking a little out of character in their best clothes, but still cheering for the two of them. Dean meanwhile, saw his father, his mother and his stepmother standing next to Sam and Jo, and grinned at them as well, unsure as to what John, Mary and Ellen were going to do about their situation but hoping it would resolve itself (in the end, Ellen would graciously leave the Winchester house with Jo and Sam, who would both put up an immense fight and caused quite a bit of disturbance for some months while they point-blank ignored their father. However, after half a year, Ellen was a few cautious weeks into a new relationship with a man named Bill, and Sam had begrudgingly moved back into his father's house to discover he and Mary got along pretty well after all. Things were looking up.)

Next to them, seven ghosts were almost invisible in the bright lights of the hall, but they were there and clapping just as enthusiastically. The dead princes had refused to become stars until they were sure Dean and Castiel were properly settled into the palace, and though Dean was pretty sure "properly" was code for Gabriel hiding his things and Samandriel being teased relentlessly for a few more months, he didn't mind. They had lost twenty years with Mary after all, and he wasn't so cruel as to deny his new uncles a few more months.

After ten minutes of waving, Dean and Castiel were eventually excused and burst exhaustedly through the back door into one of numerous halls in the palace of Stormhold, which they were pretty sure they were going to get lost in many times and were proved right for the next few years. Dean undid the top few buttons on his heavy jacket and sighed, leaning against the wall and letting Cas slide into his arms.

"I'm resigning if I have to do that much smiling every day," Dean announced, playing with the star's hair absentmindedly.

"Oh boo boo, princess. Over my dead body you're resigning," a voice said, and the two of them looked up to see Bobby standing in the doorway, looking at the door of them with a slightly sappy grin.

"I'm king. You can't talk to me like that," Dean replied, and then hid his head in Castiel's shoulder. "Tell him I'll execute him if he doesn't go away."

Castiel nodded a sincere 'yes dear', then turned to Bobby. "Captain. What are you doing here?"

"Just thought I'd drop off a little something from me and the crew," Bobby explained, and held out a cream box with a white ribbon. "It was actually your mother's idea. Most of my men and women are balls when it comes to presents, and if we let Charlie buy you a gift it would probably be very inappropriate and she'd make sure you opened it in front of your family. So I got you boys something Mary advised me on."

"What is it?" Castiel enquired, reaching out to take the box from Bobby and showing it to his new husband. "Dean, look."

Dean lifted his head and watched as Castiel undid the ribbon and lifted the lid. His eyes grew wide and he turned it so Dean could see. "A Babylon candle?" Dean asked, confused.

"Sure," Bobby nodded, and then smiled knowingly. "Trust me, it'll come in useful one day."

Dean frowned at it for a few more seconds, then made a face and thanked Bobby. "I'll put it with the rest," he said, and snapped his fingers so the box disappeared.

"Nice moves, kid," Bobby commented at the magic, then opened the side door again so the sounds of the people and music drifted out. "Now come out. There's a bunch of folks waiting to have a reception party and it can't start until you two idjits get here. It's your wedding."

"Don't blame me," Dean complained as Castiel took his hand and dragged him through the door, laughing. "I wanted Vegas!"

Dean and Castiel never used the Babylon candle Bobby had given them until they were very, very old and had ruled Stormhold for 80 long and kind years. It was an unnaturally long reign, but it had to end sometime, because no-one can live forever; except for those, of course, that owned the heart of a star, and Castiel had given his heart completely to Dean when they fell in love. When their two adopted children, Anna (named after Castiel's fallen friend) and Henry (after Dean's grandfather), had grown to become strong adults with children of their own, Dean and Cas knew it was time to move on. So they lit the Babylon candle and left for home, the heavens, where Castiel had come from in the first place and Dean was bound to go with his Faerie blood.

And since they had done quite enough falling for several lifetimes, I believe they are still there today, the north star and his love living forever and happy in the sky.


End file.
